Once inside, she carries the stool from her dressing table to the wardrobe and climbs up, stretching to reach down a battered suitcase from its top. Though not heavy it is cumbersome and she grunts as she struggles with it, wobbling precariously before stepping down onto the floorboards. Heaving the suitcase onto the end of her bed, she flicks open the fastenings and lifts back the lid. Her fingers skim the men’s clothing neatly folded inside – shirts, trousers, jumpers – and she experiences a pang of melancholy, but she has become hard and practical over the years and refuses to be maudlin. She begins to unpack.

Soon she hears Jack bring the bedtime reading to an end. She smiles as he sidesteps the boy’s drowsy request for ‘just one more’ and when the floorboards creak, giving away his departure, she gathers up the pile of clothing and heads to her open door.

He turns towards her. The landing is gloomy, grey with the sinking light that strains through the window at its end. She holds out the bundle in her arms.

‘Some of Dad’s things. I thought you might fancy a change from your uniform.’

She is careful not to meet his eyes as he relieves her of them.

‘Are you sure?’

There is a tenderness in his voice that takes her by surprise. ‘He doesn’t need them anymore. There’s no point them going to waste, is there?’ She tries to keep her manner light, but seeing her father’s things after all this time has unsettled her. She appreciates his sensitivity.

‘Thank you, lass. As Nora’s out for the evening, I’ll take them to the tack room now … and I’ll leave you in peace.’

He does not wait for her to reply. Keeping his tread soft as he passes the boy’s door, he crosses the landing and quietly descends the stairs.

‘Jack!’ Gwen catches him as he reaches the kitchen. ‘I didn’t mean to turf you out.’

He smiles. ‘Don’t fret, lass. It’s probably easier to be gone before Nora gets back … and I have something to be getting on with.’

Wishing her goodnight he lets himself out, leaving Gwen feeling strangely bereft once the door has closed behind him.

Chapter Forty-Seven

‘Someone was burning the midnight oil last night.’

Nora pulls out a chair to take her place at the breakfast table. It crosses Gwen’s mind that she has deliberately taken the seat opposite Jack, as she folds herself over the scrubbed pine, smiling at him. ‘What were you up to so late at night in the tack room?’

Jack slices into his fried egg with care. ‘Was it late?’

Nora sits back. ‘Well, I came back after eleven and I saw light in the window.’