‘Jesus, Jim, get a hold of yourself, man, before you do something you’ll regret. And believe me, regret it you will, for the rest of your life, because neither of you will ever forget, or ever move past it.’ The farmer continues to struggle. ‘I’ll not let you lay a finger on her, Jim.’

With a broken cry, Jim stumbles back, snatching himself from Jack’s grasp. He lands heavily against the drinks table tucked into the corner. One of the glasses set out upon the silver tray topples and falls. The fine crystal explodes as it hits the floorboards. Splinters of glass skitter across the polished wood.

Jim’s anger broils and yet his face crumples as he sees Gwen sobbing in her mother’s wedding dress. Fighting his conflicting emotions, he draws himself up.

‘You’ll not wear that dress, Gwen, not over my dead body. Ours was an honest love, a true marriage of hearts – I will not have you desecrate that with this charade the two of you have concocted.’ He swings back as he reaches the door. ‘I’ll not have you make a show of yourself. This,’ he waves vaguely between her and Jack, ‘it’s all face-saving nonsense.’

He rubs his hand across his mouth as he tries to regain control of his temper, but his anger continues to resonate in his voice. ‘Now I’m not saying I’m not grateful to you, Jack, but I do wonder what your motivations really are. And Gwen, there are dresses already in your wardrobe, girl, that’ll have to do and flowers to be had in the garden. That might make you look a second-rate bride, but in my eyes, in God’s eyes, and in your mother’s eyes, a second-rate bride is all you are, and all you have the right to be. Now there’s a herd to milk. You get out of that dress and you come and do your bit. You need to give me a reason why I’m still letting you sleep under my roof. You’ll earn your way – do you hear me?’

He leaves in a maelstrom. Gwen buckles to the floor, inconsolable, and all Jack can do is watch, his heart breaking, helpless to offer solace.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Gwen

August 1945

Ignoring his protests, Gwen insists Tom stays in with Muriel all day. She can barely bring herself to speak to Nora, she is so angry. Having picked up on the resentment crackling between the two girls, Muriel corners her after breakfast and demands an explanation. She listens stony-faced as Gwen tells her of Nora’s crime, and of the message behind the brick. Though she passes no comment, her knuckles blanch around the tea towel screwed in her hands, and when she returns her attentions to Tom, her voice is artificially bright. Gwen leaves to carry out the day’s labours, knowing her son is safe from all harm.