“The food always gets to you, lad,” Patrick said, a smile of affection on his face. “But as Shakespeare said, ‘All’s well that ends well.’ And what a stroke of luck that you ran into her in the town. How wonderful for you to see her again after all this time, and with her having been able to travel over to England with Lady Lassiter.”

“It was, and Lord Lassiter was as nice as always, and listened when I spoke about his garden. He even offered me the work!”

“And he gave you a shilling to boot, very generous indeed.”

Blackie nodded and took a bite of the fried egg sandwich. He was hoping he could see Siobhan again soon. “I hope Aunt Eileen feels better now. Shall I go upstairs and ask her if she wants a cup of tea?”

Patrick shook his head. “I’m sure she’s sleeping. She was a bit off it all weekend, and I finally got her to go to bed just before you came home yesterday afternoon. Maybe it’s a cold.”

Blackie took a sip of tea. Then looking at his uncle intently, he said, “I measured the back garden at Mrs. Wilson’s today. Ye see, I need ter know the size of the floor, ter order the terra-cotta tiles. Floor first, Uncle.”

“You’re gifted, Blackie. You have an inbred talent for building, and I must admit I was struck by the cleverness of your plans. It’ll be a grand conservatory.”

“Let’s hope so, Uncle Pat. I’ll be handling a lotta glass again.”

“And with lots of glaziers, I hope.”

After they had finished their tea and washed the dishes, Blackie and Patrick sat down to read in front of the fire.

Patrick had his head in the morning newspaper, which he had not had time to read before. Monday was always a busy day for him.

Blackie was reading a book on engineering, this time about Brunel. But he couldn’t concentrate. He felt confused by the situation with Angela, naïve almost. Had he misunderstood her interest? She was a widow with a nice house; perhaps she had never intended to see him again. He couldn’t deny it stung. He had not been able to put her out of his mind. Should he write her a note? Or perhaps walk up to her house by the moors, speak to her if she was at home again? If the truth be known, maybe she had not been in at her aunt’s house in Harrogate because of a sudden emergency, something he knew nothing about. He shouldn’t blame her or make assumptions. Anyway, she may have just lost track of the time.

Sudden knocking on the front door startled the two of them. It was Patrick who rose at once.

When he opened the front door, he found himself staring at Sarah Clough. “Good evening, Sarah,” he said with a wide smile.