Jim’s whisper of words is a warning. Gwen stutters, but Muriel gathers herself quickly.

‘The wedding is only a week away. I need to do the alterations.’

‘You’ll not touch that dress.’

‘But, Jim, the waist needs to come out a bit and I need to take a good inch off the hem or she’ll be tripping up the aisle …’

‘You’ll not touch that dress – do you hear me!’ They jerk at the ferocity of his roar. Muriel blanches. ‘You get that dress off, right now. You’ve no right, no right at all to wear it!’

‘But this is Mum’s dress. She would have wanted me to wear it to my own wedding, Dad. I want to wear it – I want to have her there …’

‘I said, get that dress off!’ For a big man, Jim moves quickly. Darting forward he grabs Gwen’s arm and yanks her down from the stool. She cries out in shock. ‘It’s an insult to see you in that dress, do you hear me? Your mother wore white that day for a reason! I’ll not have you make a mockery of all it means – of all we had. I’ll not let you sully your mother’s memory with your whoring.’

‘For God’s sake, Jim!’ Muriel cries.

Gwen struggles against her father’s iron grip, sobbing as the words he hurls at her land like blows – whore, slut, tart.

‘Jesus, Jim, stop!’ Jack pulls him round by the shoulder and places himself between Gwen and her father. He grasps the man’s wrist in a tight manacle and prises his fingers from Gwen’s arm, left red and raw from his unrelenting grip. Released, Gwen falls back.

‘Don’t you interfere, this has nothing to do with you, lad!’ Jim shouts, spittle flying from purple lips that look fit to burst.

‘It has everything to do with me.’

‘I don’t understand you. Why are you even helping her? Are you one of those nancy boy types? Is this just a way to hide your own perversions, taking on my tart of a daughter and her bastard child?’

‘Don’t you speak about her like that.’

‘She’s my daughter and I’ll speak about her any way I bloody well please and not you nor anyone else will stop me! Get out of that bloody dress, you whore!’ he bellows like a wounded bull. ‘Get out of it now or so help me God I’ll rip it from your body!’

He throws himself forward, his hand raised above his shoulder. Gwen screams and cowers into Muriel’s arms, as the housekeeper prepares to shield her – with her own body if needs be. But Jack is already there. He grabs Jim’s raised arm. The farmer is strong and sturdy, but Jack is tall and tough and more than his match.