The visitors returned to the farm for some supper and to meet Georgie. They brought the wine and chocolates they’d picked up on the way, as well as a book about the buildings of Bath, for Cass and Adam. Hazel, having looked them up online, was aware that they were architects. Georgie at once struck Hazel as the more friendly sister, ignoring her proffered hand and drawing her into a close hug instead. She was busty: Hazel could feel the warmth and bulk of her breasts against her own. Georgie wore hoop earrings with her hair badly pinned up and a loose, patterned blouse. She looked like the sort of woman who’d be good at cooking without bothering to use a recipe: Hazel could picture her presiding over a table crowded with friends. She seemed like a hospitable type of person. But it was Cass who prepared their supper while Georgie sat, a glass of wine in her hand.

They were quizzed about their trip. Where they had been; where they were going next; how long they planned to spend in England; whether they meant to make trips to anywhere else in Europe.

‘Not that we’re even going to be in Europe any longer,’ said Adam gloomily.

‘So who did you say it was, who’d lived in the Cotswolds?’ asked Cass, keen to steer her husband off the subject of Brexit.

The Grange wasn’t actually in the Cotswold hills, but Hazel didn’t like to contradict.

‘That was William Gale. My great-great-grandfather, and I believe he’s your great-great-great. I think you slotted in another generation. Someone in there must have had children earlier in life.’

‘And how come you ended up Australian and we didn’t?’ asked Georgie.

‘Because we come from William’s first wife, Alice, and your people come from the second wife, Sarah. Alice was the mother of George and your Sarah had Harriet. I don’t know how much you know about the family history?’

‘Not much,’ Georgie admitted. ‘Our mother used to tell us about the family sometimes, but you know what it’s like. You never want to listen to your mother.’

‘Well, after he came back from the Crimean war William seems to have changed quite a bit. I’ve got some of his letters and the tone is completely different, afterwards. I wondered if he had some PTSD. Must have been pretty traumatic, that first winter. A lot of people lost their lives. His brother was one of them. We’ll never know.’

‘Did they even have PTSD, then?’ Adam wondered.

‘I suppose they always had it, they just didn’t know what it was. What was the matter with them, I mean,’ said Georgie.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a brother,’ said Cass.

‘Yes. Algernon. He was younger. I haven’t been able to find out much about him, except dates.’