Every morning, rain or shine but mostly rain, I would walk the Friesians – my Ladies, their udders trailing on the ground – up from the river field to the parlour at The Hill where I would clean them down and set the milking machines on them. The black and white of their hides brushing against the bridal high heads of wild angelica lulled me with its sweet scent. I patted their silky auld haunches and thanked them for their company. Sometimes I whispered a line or two from a book or told them a story about Serena or Bridie because I had no one else to tell.

I lugged hay bales and cut the twine with a penknife that John had given me for the job. I broke the ice on the big water tubs where the cows drank and cleaned the crow, pigeon and rook muck out of their feeders in the summer. In the winter I cleaned the cow muck out of the byre and wheelbarrowed it to the midden. I’d asked John if we could move the midden further away from the street to help the smell about the place. He’d said fine, it’s you will have to travel further. I remembered that when I thought my arms were being pulled out of my shoulders. I had no one to blame but myself.

After plenty of those days I dreamt that I would beg my mother if I could have a bath, a long, hot soak in a tub where the water came out of the tap instead of a boiled saucepan. But I kept my dreams to myself and got out the ancient wooden nailbrush and scrubbed the orange cowshit from under my nails. I often wondered how Lizzie was doing in London in that same moment. Was she thinking of me?

Indoors, Serena was centre stage at mealtimes where we taught her to count and started her on her letters. I bathed her in the old Belfast sink and John read the bedtime story. I stayed by the door so that I could close it when he left and we all pretended it was so that Bridie could hear about Cinderella and Snow White and Rapunzel from the comfort of her chair by the fire.

He had collected up every picture book about every princess he could find. I chewed my lip as he named them all, got her to repeat the colours of their dresses and eyes and hair. She had to try to count the wheels on the carriages and the legs on the horses. Sometimes the horses ended up with six legs because she was so busy showing off she forgot to stop. He’d catch my eye and laugh and I’d smile without baring any teeth and pray it would soon be over and her and me would be alone again.