Shall we give them some happy news? I think they deserve some happy news...

"Well?"

Anna had sat and fidgeted outside the post office for the best part of half an hour. John had taken what felt like an age on the phone. They had planned to squeeze into the booth together but the lack of space thwarted this plan.

He was beaming at her, walking over. His eyes delighted.

"Well?"

"It's all good news."

"Well I can see that much!"

"Can we go and talk somewhere? There's lots to say."

"Do you want to walk back to the farm? Or shall we got to the pub?"

"The pub. They might have some snacks or something."

A few minutes later they were settled in, with some nuts and crisps and a half pint of cider a piece.

"So go on. Tell me."

"First, I rang the agent. He said the house is currently let to a family. Nice people, the father works in the warehouse district."

"John, I don't care where he works…"

"Well, you should. Because it's important."

"Why?"

"Because he's had promotion from shift manager to general manager. And he wants to buy the house."

Anna sat stunned. No need to advertise. No estate agents, no extra fees, and a quick guaranteed sale…

"Oh John!"

"I know. It's better than we dared to dream. The company had agreed to back him for a low interest mortgage, they want him to stay and he wants to keep his family settled. The agent is going to call him today and set things in motion."

"Did he say how much we're likely to be able to ask?"

"He'll arrange for a valuation. But he did say that because it's a private sale, the value would be substantially more than market value. The tenant is very keen to avoid a bidding war."

Anna's hands clenched together, her fingers white beneath her gloves.

"So… what about the second call?"

John took a sip of his drink, ate a few nuts. He so rarely had good news for his wife, that it was all he could do to relish the moment.

"How do our accounts stand?"

"Very healthy. Very healthy indeed…"

Anna squeaked with delight.

"How so?"

"Our investor is a good man. He's made good use of the money I inherited from mother. Truth be told, he's dismayed I want to pull out the capital, but once I explained why he accepted the decision. Bricks and mortar are another good investment. Properly maintained, it can only accumulate."

"So where do we stand? In real terms…"

"Well… that all comes down to the third phone call."

"John! You told me you'd only booked two!"

"Well… this was a local call, within Yorkshire, so the post mistress was able to fit me in." John pulled the folded piece of newspaper from his pocket, containing the advertisement for the hotel in Whitby.

"You never…"

"I called them, to discuss an asking price. The owner is keen to sell quickly. His wife is ailing, they can't manage the place much longer."

"And?"

"And he wants us to go and see them. Tomorrow."

Tomorrow!

Could they do it?

"Oh John…"

"Don't get too excited. It's a first meeting. The house has to be sold, the price agreed, and then the paperwork on this sort of thing can take an age. But … do you want to go? To see the place? I don't feel right buying it it we haven't had chance for a look."

"How would we go?"

"We could take the train, there and back in a day. It's not too far away. Not compared to London, and we've done there and back in a day, with Lord Grantham and Lady Mary."

John covered her hand and spoke low, earnest and serious.

"I think… if we like the place, we'll be in a good position to put in an offer. The money from our investments can put down a deposit, and still leave plenty spare. Then, once the house is sold, we can complete the payments, and start looking for staff."

"Is this real? Is this happening…?"

"It is my darling. At long last, and all of a sudden, it is."

They kissed across the table of the little pub, not caring who heard or saw.

"Tomorrow? I don't see why not," Bill beamed at them across the table. "What time's the train, 'ave you looked it up?"

There's one a little after 9 in the morning. We can get there, spend the morning meeting the owners, have something to eat and look around the town…"

"What time would yer be back?"

"The afternoon train gets in around four o'clock."

"Marvellous! Time for you to get sorted for Sunday and we can 'ave a right nice celebration together. I'll get Hetty to make us something specially nice for dinner."

John thought that what they were eating now was already specially nice. Big juicy sausages, slightly peppery with herbs from the kitchen garden, fried with onions in a savoury cider gravy, with mounds of mashed potatoes and fresh peas and broad beans. He was sure his trousers were becoming a little less slack at the waist every day since they had arrived.

Anna had also put on a smidgen of weight. It looked beautiful on her. Her curves had filled out, her cheeks had colour, even her hair seemed more golden and full than the pale straw it had become in recent months. She wore it loose, or tucked into a woven plait down her back, rather than bound back in a severe bun as she did at Downton.

She was chatting animatedly with Bill about the sheep, who had recovered from their ordeal in the dipping trough.

"You wouldn't know they were the same creatures as yesterday, daft beggars. And it does do 'em good. There's more life in 'em now, more energy."

"Do you know… Bill…" Anna reached for John's hand. "I feel like I was dipped yesterday. Over this holiday in fact."

"Oh aye?"

John returned his full attention to the conversation at hand.

"None of this… talking about what's happened to me, getting through it, making plans… none of it is what I wanted for this holiday. I wanted… to not think. And it wasn't what I need at all."

She looked up at John's face, smiling. He felt as though he had been blessed by a sudden ray of sunshine, straight down from heaven.

"We've stripped out all the things that were eatin' at me. At both of us. Like your poor old sheep. And it were horrible, to go through. I didn't like it at all. But now…"

"You've got more life in yer again lass." Bill nodded, quite understanding.

"And I know…" she squeezed John's hand. "There might be times when we need to strip more out. In future, like. Just like you dip your sheep again and again. But it'll help. It's our way forward. Our way living round things."

If Bill hadn't been in the kitchen, John would have swept her into his arms there and then, and what was on the table would have been damned to the floor.

He settled for returning the grip on his hand and smiling fit to burst his cheeks.

"Well, I'm right glad to hear you got things sorted out. The pair of you." Bill gave John a knowing look as he cleared the plates away, bringing over the cake tin and a fresh pot. "Makes my heart glad to know that, it really does."

"We couldn't have done it without you and this place Bill."

"Aw, don't be so daft, of course yer would. Might have taken a bit longer, but you would have."

Anna and John caught each other's eye in mutual disagreement.

Bill wielded his knife above Hetty's pristine carrot cake.

"Now then… tell me 'ow big y'd like your slices…"