‘Dunk it again,’ she orders as she reaches for the next one, leaving Jack to grope inexpertly for the animal that is battling through the water to reach the far edge of the tub, freedom in its sights. He buries his fingers into its dense wool and, feeling the sheer strength of it as it struggles against him, he tightens his hold and attempts to force it under. He has just managed to submerge it when it strikes free of his grip and scrambles away from him. He gasps at the shock of cold water on his sun-warmed skin. The next animal is already paddling past him.

‘Grab it, quick,’ Gwen shouts, amusement playing in her voice.

Cursing, Jack grabs the rear of the escaping sheep, dragging it back as its front legs find purchase on the edge of the trough.

‘You make it look so bloody easy!’

Gwen and Jim laugh.

‘You need to be quicker, lad,’ Jim tells him, knocking the next sheep through.

It takes concentration for Jack to establish a rhythm. His shoulder knocks Gwen’s as their hands feed over each other passing the sheep between them, pushing and pulling, dunking and hauling, the air filling with the trepidatious bleats of the flock pressed together in the holding pen. Jack begins to relax into the motion, his spirits lifting at the sight of the released sheep shaking themselves like wet dogs as they scrabble free of the tub before trotting out into the daisy-speckled field behind.

The ring of a bicycle bell catches Jack’s attention. He is laughing at something Gwen has said when the shrill sound draws his eye to the side of the building. He fights to maintain a semblance of a smile as he sees a tall figure in a blue uniform wheeling the bike over the worn track towards them. The vein in Jack’s neck begins to pulse as his breaths shorten and his chest becomes strangely tight. He feels the bob of his Adam’s apple.

‘Jack, focus!’ Gwen chides as he is splashed by a careering sheep. He rips his eyes away from the approaching policeman and drags the errant creature back, plunging it into the trough. But he cannot focus. His mind is as numb as his water-frozen hands.

‘You started without me, Jim,’ the policeman calls, resting his bike on the back wall of the stable block.

‘Well, I haven’t got all day to wait for you, Vic.’