She holds up her hand to stop him. ‘I don’t want to hear it, Jack. Now so far, only Nora and Tom know you’re here. I can explain away your departure to them both, but you need to leave at once.’

They hear the faint lowing of the cows being driven into the yard. Gwen bites her lip, her hand on the latch.

‘I’m going to help Nora do the milking. I want you gone by the time we’re finished.’ She pulls open the door. ‘I’m sorry, Jack,’ she says gently. ‘I really do wish you all the best.’

And before he can answer, the door closes against him. He slumps, defeated. He feels like a potter who has patiently crafted a delicate vase from the shapeless lump of clay spinning on his wheel. But in a moment of clumsiness his touch becomes too firm, his pressure on the pedal too great and, before he can prevent it, his object of beauty topples into a useless fold of clay, spinning beyond his control.

Sinking his head into his hands, he wonders how his return could have so quickly gone wrong. He has squandered his one chance to secure the future he has longed for, shattering the dreams that have sustained him for the past year.

His head jerks up as the kitchen door is flung open. Muriel stands in the open doorway, breathless and pale. He instantly pushes back his chair and gets to his feet, a tentative smile lifting the corners of his mouth. She lets out a mew of relief and dashes forward, cupping his face with her hands in an extraordinary display of affection.

‘Heaven be blessed,’ she exclaims, drinking him in; she is sensitive enough not to mention his hollowed cheeks or the weariness in his eyes. ‘Mrs Hamer said she was sure she’d seen you at the train station, then Bob Collins said he’d seen you walking past the pub and I hardly dared to believe it!’ Tears glint as she releases him. ‘I knew you’d be back,’ she whispers.

‘But not for long, it seems.’

He meets her puzzlement with a sad smile. ‘I made a promise and I broke it, without any right to do so. Gwen’s asked me to go, and that’s fair enough.’

‘Go?’

‘Aye.’

‘When?’

‘Now. She’s doing the milking. I have to be on my way before she’s done.’

Her mouth tightens as her eyes harden to flint. ‘Is that right?’ She spits out a noise of disgust and grabs the door handle. ‘Just you leave this to me.’ She points a finger at his chest. ‘Sit back down, my boy. You’re not going anywhere.’

Chapter Forty-Three