‘Go away with you!’ Jim protests, snatching up the broom. ‘After you’ve spent all that time making a new dress? Gwen, there’s no need to be creating all this fuss, no need at all.’

‘But Dad …’

‘Enough, Gwen,’ he snaps, causing her to flinch. Jack pauses his sluicing of the floor. Jim gathers himself, his temper easing. ‘Go and get ready, Gwen. I want to see you all done up.’

He leans into the broom after she has gone. ‘Always fussing over me.’

Jack throws the remaining bucket of water over the stone and refrains from asking questions.

Muriel dishes up dinner, then removes her apron.

‘I’m going to help Gwen get ready,’ she says, folding it neatly over the chair, unable to contain her fizz of excitement. She is like the mother of the bride on a wedding day, eager for her daughter to make her entrance. ‘It’ll be a full house at the Hall this year, what with young Gordon being back from his travels.’

‘That wastrel? I can tell you – his absence was no loss,’ Jim mutters darkly over his spoonful of stew.

‘Well, there’s no telling all they said about him was true.’ Muriel quicksteps around the table. Jim snorts and mutters again, this time about smoke and fire.

‘This stew is right tasty, Muriel,’ Jack says as she passes behind his chair. She lays her hand on his shoulder in appreciation of the praise, an encouraging sign of her warming regard.

A light tap on the door is followed by the click of the latch.

‘Evening, all,’ Ted says as he ducks under the lintel. ‘Oh, I’m too early, I didn’t mean to interrupt your meal.’

‘Have you eaten, Ted?’ Muriel calls from the step into the hall. ‘There’s more in the pot, help yourself.’

‘If you’re sure?’

‘Tuck in, Ted,’ Jim insists. ‘Gwen’s having supper at the ball, so there’s plenty to go around.’

‘Well, just a taste then.’ Ted moves around the kitchen with marked familiarity, collecting a plate from the dresser, before lifting the ladle from the pot.

‘Muriel was just saying the Allingham lad is back.’

‘Gordon? He’s been back a while now.’ Ted sets down his plate and pulls out a chair. ‘How’s Gwen getting to the Hall?’

‘The Hendersons are picking her up. I’ll go and collect her.’

They have just finished eating when Muriel’s voice carries down the stairs like a shrill bird call.

When they fail to respond, she bursts into the kitchen, bright spots of excitement blotching her drawn cheeks.

‘Well? Don’t you want to come and see her?’

‘Ah, of course we do,’ Jim says, smiling broadly as he shoves back his chair and levers himself up, the others following suit.

They traipse into the hall, Ted bringing up the rear.

Muriel arranges them by the front door with the stairs rising before them.