Jack was a particular favourite of Esther’s. Not in that way. Joseph had observed them often enough and although they flirted, it was clearly done in jest. He wasn’t a threat. But he was hardly what Joseph would have chosen for Snowden. He had no interest in the place, other than as a party venue. Once it was his, he’d probably sell the land off to the railways, chop down the trees and lay off half the villagers who worked here.

In the dim and distant past, Joseph had harboured hopes of a son and heir but that longed-for coy announcement had never come. And never would, now. So that was it; Jack would inherit Snowden.

Jack wouldn’t be here for much longer. He’d be back with his squadron in Lincolnshire as soon as that arm was mended. Joseph should make the most of having him here. Carpe diem. He’d show him around the estate, introduce him to the tenant farmers and try, as much as he could – heaven help him – to interest Jack in the place.

Joseph looked around him. Hall and bank staff were sitting separately, one group on either side of the cellar. It was understandable. It was barely three weeks since the bank had relocated here and they hardly knew each other.

He hoped the division between the two camps would become less marked as the weeks went by. Perhaps, in spring, he’d organise a cricket match. House versus bank or, better still, mixed teams (Gwen would approve of that).

* * *

The kiddie on Lord Ashford’s lap was getting bored. Any minute now he’d want to be off, careering around the cellar and he, Ray, couldn’t allow it; this place wasn’t a playground.

‘Cooeee!’ The new woman – Mrs Nicholls – was leaning forward and waving at the boy. He covered his face with his hand, shyly for a moment and then waved back.

‘And who is this little chap?’ she asked.

His Lordship jiggled him on his knee, pulling faces and making him laugh. ‘This is Rudi. Say hello to everyone, Rudi!’

The boy put his head down and didn’t respond as some of the women waved and called his name.

‘Rudi’s come all the way from Austria, for … a holiday, let’s say. Until things at home calm down.’

An evacuee, then, Ray thought. Of a kind. He’d heard of other children from the continent being sent over to England for the duration, although it made no sense to him. Surely, the children were simply swapping one war-torn country for another?

‘Here, Rudi!’ When Ray had the child’s attention, he faced the cellar wall, put up his hand and made a shadow puppet – a rabbit’s head – with his fist and two fingers for the ears. Rudi giggled and Ray added a twitching nose, using his thumb.