‘Every Snowden man who went to fight in the Great War gave the blacksmith a penny and he nailed it to his door, under a horseshoe, for luck. Joey – Lord Ashford – was one of them. They all came back. Ted March lost an eye, another fella, a leg, so the smithy took a chink out of two coins. They’re all there, on the blacksmith’s door. Still there.’

‘But they all came back?’ Maggie insisted.

‘That time, they did. Not this time. Two boys are missing in action, one is definitely … gone.’

‘And Mrs Mason’s husband?’ Maggie prompted. ‘I did notice she had a black eye once. And she often has bruises but—’

‘Yes, it’s him. He does it. It’s like she said; he’s not the same man who went off to war.’

‘And there’s nothing we can do,’ Maggie said. Her dad had fought last time and she wondered, suddenly, what he’d been through. She’d never asked him; he’d never said.

‘No,’ Gwen agreed. ‘There’s nothing we can do. I asked Maureen once, if everything was all right at home. She’s proud; I didn’t expect her to tell me but she did say that she married him “in sickness and in health” and she’ll stand by that vow. I know she will, until the day she dies.’

Chapter 39

Joseph sat at his desk, tapping a pen into his palm, waiting for a telephone call.

He felt calmer than he’d done for some time. The bank staff had settled in and Rosman’s was operating as efficiently as ever. He’d tracked down Miss Corbett’s mother on the Isle of Man and that had assuaged some of the guilt he felt in asking her to help him with his ‘correspondence’.

Progress was being made.

He pursed his lips and the thought crossed his idling mind that Sebastian was nowhere to be seen. He hadn’t seen the bear for a couple of days. Rudi again, no doubt. He’d have to start locking his office.

There was a knock on the door and Gwen came in with his coffee. Was it that time already? As he stood and smiled at her, the telephone on his desk started to ring.

Damn.

‘Beg your pardon, I have to take this,’ he said, snatching up the receiver. ‘Ashford!’ He turned to face the window. It was overseas, a bad line. He had to cover his left ear in order to hear anything.

He was vaguely aware of Gwen approaching his desk and then, a moment or two later, closing the door, as she left.

‘Yes, yes, I can hear you,’ he said to the caller. ‘Go ahead.’

It was twenty minutes before he put the receiver down. His coffee was cold and he’d missed the highlight of his day: speaking to Gwen.