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‘Oh God, Lara!’ I say, throwing down the broom and hurrying across towards her car. The Audi passes me, swinging wide into the yard and pulling up outside the old milking parlour.

‘Lara! Are you okay?’ I shout.

‘Yes,’ she calls back, trying to push the car door open. ‘I’m fine,’ she adds as I draw nearer, but she’s clearly shaken.

‘Here, let me help,’ says a male voice, running up behind me. I turn to see a young man, late twenties, in a baseball cap, big sunglasses, a white tracksuit and trainers. ‘Are you okay?’ he shouts to Lara.

Behind him is another young man, wearing black and holding a camera on a frame. He appears to be filming.

‘I’m really sorry,’ says the first man. He rushes past me and takes hold of the door on Lara’s slightly skew-whiff car, pulling it wide open, then holds out a hand to her. She doesn’t take it but climbs out of the car unaided, stepping up from the ditch onto the drive. She brushes herself down, straightening her smart cream-coloured wool coat, then pulls herself up tall.

‘We just didn’t see you,’ the young man says. ‘Well, I didn’t. Sorry. I was on my phone.’

‘I was right in front of you, driving carefully to avoid the potholes!’ Lara says crossly. ‘And you shouldn’t have been on your phone! You were going far too fast, and you ran me off the track.’ Her stern manner surprises and impresses me.

‘Yeah, you’re right. I really am sorry,’ he says. ‘Way too fast on this track.’ He looks around and back down it. ‘Didn’t realize it would be quite so . . .’

‘Rural?’ I suggest.

‘Yeah, that’s it,’ he says, turning to me, and I get a flash of very white teeth and gold from the large necklace he’s wearing.

‘Look –’ he turns back to Lara – ‘if there’s any damage, we’ll sort it. We’ve got a car company we work with . . . collabs and all that. We’ll get it fixed up.’

Lara and I exchange a look; it’s as if he’s speaking a foreign language. Then we both look at the man in black with the camera.

‘Everyfing okay?’ comes a woman’s voice. I look back and see her emerging from the driver’s side of the large vehicle. The cameraman swings round towards her, focusing on her as she approaches us. She is wearing smart knee-high leather boots and pulling on a long waxed coat – adjusting it, I notice, to show off the branding on the breast.

‘I’ll get the Land Rover and we can tow it out,’ I say to Lara, although I’m wondering who on earth these people are. Then I see Willow standing outside the kitchen door, looking worried.

‘It’s okay, Willow,’ I call to him. ‘We’re just going to get Lara’s car out of the ditch.’ I wonder if one of these people could be the second social worker Lara was talking about, here to do the kinship assessment. I hope not, because if that’s what’s going on, things aren’t exactly getting off to a smooth start.

‘That’s the problem with these narrow drives,’ says the young woman loudly. ‘They need to be wider, and tarmacked. That’ll cost.’

It’s never been a problem before, I’m about to retort. Maybe the real problem is people driving too fast. But I bite my tongue, even though I’m furious for Willow’s sake and for the sake of my assessment.

‘Is Lara okay?’ Willow’s voice reaches me across the farmyard. He’s retreated into the doorway, leaning out to try and see what’s going on, but clearly not ready to leave the safety of the front porch.

‘Oh yes, Willow, she’s fine,’ I reassure him. I start towards him, but he looks alarmed and steps back.

‘I heard voices,’ he says, looking past me, his face tense. I wonder what kind of a memory this commotion has dragged up for him.

‘We’ll just get the car out of the ditch now,’ I say brightly. ‘No one was hurt.’ I look back at the driver, adding, ‘Luckily.’

But as I say it, it occurs to me that it could easily have been Willow she narrowly missed with her giant Audi, and I feel genuine fury rising up inside me. My whole world seems to be tilting on its axis. It’s as if the flip side of my determination to protect this young life in my care is a rage like I’ve never known before – and the fear that I may not be able to, next time something happens.

‘Do you want to come in the Land Rover with me, to tow Lara’s car?’ I try to make it sound like an exciting opportunity. ‘Ride shotgun?’

‘Can Tegan come?’

I nod, smiling. ‘Of course!’ I love that Tegan seems to be his source of comfort and safety right now. When we’re all in bed at night, I’ve heard his gentle voice speaking. I can hardly make out what he’s saying, but I’ve picked up that he’s talking to Tegan, telling her about the ducks and Gloria; and I wonder what else he talks to her about.

‘I think you and Tegan may be the best of friends,’ I say as we make our way over to the Land Rover.

He nods, opens the creaky door and climbs up into the passenger seat, followed by Tegan. As she jumps up and onto his lap, a tiny smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, making me feel the total opposite to the anger I’ve just experienced. A feeling of understanding blossoms between us, and I know that above all, I want to keep this boy safe. I want the very best for Willow, and I’m going to make sure he gets it.

I turn the Land Rover and pull up near Lara’s car, only to find that she and the man in the tracksuit – which is no longer so pristinely white – have already managed to extract it from the ditch. The two of them are standing back, dusting off their hands. I cut the engine and get out of the Land Rover as Willow and Tegan watch from the safety of the passenger seat.

‘Well, thank you,’ Lara is saying, pulling herself up as tall as she can, although she’s still quite short. She pushes her dark bob back from her face. ‘Perhaps tell your partner to slow down next time,’ she says.