“Thank you, but I’m busy next weekend.”

“What a shame,” Angela answered, and retreated to the house.

“Ta’ra,” Blackie said, and took hold of Patrick’s arm. “Let’s be a going, Uncle Pat.”

Patrick waited until they were out of the garden and on the street before saying, “I must admit they’re both very pretty girls … women.…” His voice trailed off, and he didn’t say anything else, leading his nephew onto the moor next to the house they had just left. “Let’s sit down on this seat for a moment,” Patrick said. “I need to talk to you before we get home.”

Blackie did not respond but sat down, waiting, wondering what his uncle would say. Tell him off, no doubt.

But he was wrong. Patrick shifted on the seat slightly and stared at Blackie. “How far has this gone, lad?”

“Er-er-not sure what you mean, Uncle?”

“Have you … been intimate with Sarah?”

Blackie was startled. His uncle obviously assumed he was entangled with the younger of the sisters. Not wanting to get Sarah into this mess, he improvised, “No, I haven’t.”

“All right, I’m glad to hear you’ve been cautious. But if it goes any further and you take that step, I want you to protect yourself. We don’t need any babies out of wedlock. Go to the chemist shop on Monday and sort out what you need. Just in case, so you’re prepared. And remember what I said about behavior. You need to be thinking about marriage if that’s the way things are going. And don’t ever force yourself on a woman. Let her show that she’s … ready, willing and able. Understood?”

“Yes, Uncle Pat, ye know I allus listen to ye.”

Patrick nodded. “Sarah explained why you were angry. And in a way, I suppose I don’t blame you, and take my word for it, some women can be devious and manipulative. So be careful, be alert.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Blackie muttered. “Shouldn’t we be going, Uncle Pat?”

“Aye, we should. Let’s go across the moor and down to Tower Lane. That’s the quickest way to Town Street.”

The week became busy for Blackie. He had shown his plans for Mrs. Wilson’s conservatory to his uncle and to Mrs. Wilson herself, and both sides had approved.

Patrick Kennedy was delighted when she signed the work contract and told him Blackie could start at once. And he did. He was measuring the space, visiting the glaziers, ordering quantities of glass, wood and paint. Then he went in search of terra-cotta slabs for the floor of the conservatory. He was thrilled, the fuss of the weekend forgotten.