Harry nodded. Roland. Was Ellison being deliberately familiar by using his employer’s first name? He hadn’t heard him being called that before; it was always Mr Tannerson when the men spoke to him face to face.

‘Are we unloading this morning?’ he asked. ‘There’s no sign of ’bargemen yet.’

‘Oh, they’ll be here, all in good time,’ Ellison said. ‘We’ll unload into ’bins and on to ’second floor so we’re ready to start first thing on Monday morning.’

‘Oh, not today? Or tomorrow?’

’No, we’ll have all on to get ’grain shifted inside today, and there’s no point starting on Sat’day. Not on half a day. Don’t want to leave ’job half finished, do we?’

‘Course we don’t,’ Harry agreed, not wanting any confrontation with the man, but he had his reservations; he was used to working a full day for a day’s pay, and he reckoned that in six hours on a Saturday morning they could have made good progress. ‘Well, I’ll go and feed ’hosses. Don’t know where ’stable lad’s got to,’ he said, even though he’d seen Jim disappearing through the mill doors in a mighty hurry.

‘He’ll be skiving off somewhere, I expect,’ Ellison said. ‘If you see him tell him I want a mashing of tea, and I want it now. Then come back when ’bargemen arrive and we’ll get started.’

Harry put up his thumb in agreement, and walked off to the stable to feed the horses and walk them round the yard, for it seemed likely that they wouldn’t be working today either and they’d need their exercise. It was as he brought Nellie out first that he saw Jim Smith sauntering from the direction of the mill, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the back of a young lad disappearing out of the front gate.

An hour later the boilers in the engine room were throbbing, the conveyors were running and grain from the barges was heading towards the hoppers, the silo receiving bins and the grain floor. Harry ran his fingers through it as it fell off the conveyor; it felt warm to the touch and he sniffed at it, wondering how long it had been in transit. By the end of the afternoon the barges were unloaded and pulling away from the wharf, the men were checking the machinery, wiping down belts and oiling drive shafts, and in the warehouse some of the younger lads were sweeping up spilt grain with wide-headed brushes.

Harry picked up a brush and swept the yard, putting the fallen grain into a wooden bin. It didn’t do to leave grain lying around, for the rats would be on the lookout for it, and although they couldn’t be kept out of a grain warehouse entirely, it served to clean up as much as possible.