“You’re a loose cannon, Grandad,” Ellen grinned, “but we love you all the same.”

Bob Maitland smiled to himself.

He had family about him, and though he was prone to making the odd gaffe, he knew he was loved. There was laughter in his house, and a new baby on the way.

What man could be happier, he thought contentedly.

Maddy thought it was wonderful, seated here in the back of the car with two lovely, caring people up front. Sometimes in the house she had little time to think, but now, with the drum of the engine and the swish of tire against tarmac, she felt relaxed and at ease. But it wasn’t long before the doubts came flooding in. What future had they, she and the baby? She wondered how it would all end, and whether she would ever have the peace of mind she craved.

When the fears threatened to overwhelm her, she thrust them to the back of her mind, and now, as Grandad and Ellen got caught up in sharing old memories, she turned her attention on the unfamiliar landscape.

Preston New Road watched out over Blackburn Town from a great height. Flanked by handsome Victorian houses with deep bay windows and tall roofs, it was a main artery out of town; the roadway echoed to the rumble of vehicles, and the pavements were worn down by the dogged rhythm of passersby.

Nearby, Corporation Park, where the three travelers stopped to stretch their legs, was a haven amidst the hustle and bustle. With its impressive entrance and colorful flowerbeds, it was a treasured and well-used place. Along its many paths and deeper into the woodland areas, there were ancient trees older than the town itself. Excited children could slide down manmade cliffs, play in sandpits and run about to their hearts’ content. There were swings, and a lake, where the ducks and other birds played and chased, to create delight for the onlookers.

Maddy was already thinking how, in just a few short weeks, she could walk the baby in its pram, and show him or her the ducks in the lake, and when the child was a little older, the two of them could swing together and play in the sand, and create that special bond that united mother and child forever.

Like every other visitor, Maddy was amazed and delighted to see such a beautiful place set right there, so close to traffic and houses, creating a special world all of its own. Everything appeared so neat and precise, yet there was a savage wildness about it that drew you in, deeper and deeper, until your soul mingled with the primitive, and your senses were brought alive by all manner of sights and smells, and all the while you were made aware of the tiny creatures which foraged about in the trees and shrubs.

From one end of the park to the other, you would find any number of benches and alcoves, where you could hide from the world, or just sit and watch, and sometimes when you strayed from the main path you would stumble on secret, tree-lined walkways where you could wander at will and lose yourself for hours on end.

Maddy was thrilled at the thought of showing all that magic to her baby one day.

Soon they were back in the car and heading toward the moors. “Can you recall exactly where the inn was?” Grandad asked Ellen. “Because I’m buggered if I can.”

“It was too long ago,” she told him. “We’ll just have to try every which way and all keep a lookout.”

For the next hour or so, they enjoyed the beauty all around. They stopped at a babbling brook and paddled in the freezing cold water, afterward wiping their feet on Grandad’s old coat from the boot.

They lingered in the heart of the moors and looked out across a bleak and magnificent landscape. As they were watching the deer, timid and wary as they flitted across the horizon, on the skyline a rider and horse leisurely hacked along, and there in the trees a magnificent falcon stared down on them with bright, fierce eyes.

Enthralled and as wide-eyed as a child, Maddy thought she had never seen anything so extraordinarily beautiful.

After a while, when they grew hungry and in need of refreshment, they got back in the car again and meandered on. “Turn right,” Ellen suggested as they came to a fork in the road. “I’ve a feeling the inn is down this way somewhere.”

They had gone about half a mile, when Maddy shouted for them to stop. “Look – there it is! Whitely Inn!”

The sign on the tree was weathered and barely legible, but close up, you could just about read the writing.

“Good girl.” Grandad was aching for a long glass of something cool.

Another quarter of a mile and there it was.

“That’s it!” Ellen was amazed. “It must have been ten or eleven years since I was here, and it hasn’t changed a bit.”

“That’s not surprising,” Grandad quipped, “when it probably hasn’t changed much in hundreds of years.”

After parking the car, they walked the short distance on foot. Maddy took stock of the fine old building; with its tall windows and thick, impressive doorway, it resembled an old-time castle.

The interior carried the same style and atmosphere, with stone floors and dark narrow doorways, and all around, the wood-paneled walls were hung with gilt-framed images. Some of them depicted huntsmen seated by a fireplace, with their faithful hounds at their feet; others portrayed noblemen sitting around a table, their hounds in full sweat, with merry maids bringing them jugs of ale and tending to their every need.

Grandad caught the eye of a waitress. “Do you have a table for three?” he asked.

“For lunch, or a snack, sir?”

“Lunch, if you will.” He bestowed one of his beguiling smiles on her. “We’re all a bit famished.”

Ushering them to a table by the window, she then brought three beautiful menus which, being designed in brown and gold with a coat of armor at the head, were works of art in themselves.

She took their drinks order. “Let me make sure I’ve got it right,” she said as she read it back. “One large strong coffee, a glass of sarsaparilla, and two pots of tea, one with milk and one without?”

Satisfied, she moved away, leaving them to study the menus.

By the time their drinks arrived, the choices were made. Grandad was having steak and chips, with peas on the side; Ellen opted for fish-pie and mash, and Maddy fancied Lancashire hotpot. “I haven’t tried it yet.” she told the others.

The meals were delicious.

Having downed his cool drink, strong coffee and cleared his plate in record time, Grandad patted his full belly. “By! That were good,” he declared. “Just enough, and not too much.”

Ellen agreed. “I couldn’t eat another thing,” she said, noisily blowing out her cheeks.

Maddy ate less than the others. “It’s so filling,” she apologized. “Tastiest meal I’ve ever had, but half that portion would have been enough.” She groaned. “I feel as if I’ve eaten a whole cow.”

Ellen said she was not surprised that Maddy could only manage half. “I bet that poor little baby is feeling all squashed up,” she chuckled, “under that mountain of Lancashire hotpot.”

None of them had room for a pudding. But they each ordered another drink.

They enjoyed the banter a while longer, and then the girls decided they must “pay a visit to the lavvie” before they set off again.

Having got directions from the waitress, they made their way through the next room and down the long hallway; Ellen up front and Maddy waddling in the rear.

The Ladies Room was a revelation. The deep, wide window was set above a curved seat upholstered in plush red velvet. Each of the toilet cubicles boasted pretty oak shelves carrying dishes of dried and perfumed autumn leaves, and spare toilet rolls clad in pink fabric bags. There were old-fashioned brass knobs on the door, and a sample of embroidery depicting two lines from a Wordsworth poem hanging on the wall.