‘Ages ago.’ There was an even sharper edge to Pax’s, the mention of his name guaranteeing a frost between them, a quick subject switch essential. ‘Lester will need pyjamas and wash things, I take it?’

‘Oh, could you put it all together? That would be marvellous. I’ll come home as soon as he’s moved into a ward, then I can bring it all back here in visiting hours. How’s our new arrival?’

‘Still catnapping in the tack room.’ She had no desire to hurry back.

‘That won’t do at all. Why not put him in Lester’s cottage for now?’

‘I’ve got the attic flat ready.’

‘Nonsense. We agreed you and Kes are going to be living in that.’

‘We didn’t agree anything.’ She had a sudden image of herself sprawled on her father’s bed, whisky bottle and cigarette in hand, fulfilling the prophecy. ‘You can’t just give Lester’s cottage away, Mummy.’

‘He’s not going to need it for a bit, though, is he?’ It seldom occurred to pragmatic, ever-transient Ronnie that others were more sentimental about their private sanctums. ‘Stubbs and that fox need looking after. It’s jolly cosy in there, and far easier for keeping an eye on the yard.’

‘That’s not the point. It’s Lester’s home.’

‘I’m perfectly aware of that, but the stairs are totally impractical. He’ll need single-storey living for the foreseeable future. Maybe we can turn the old Stables Flat into a convalescence wing?’

‘That has an external staircase and no heating!’ The long dormitory beneath the clock tower hadn’t been used since before the war.

‘You’re good at sorting out this sort of thing, Pax. We can offer Stables Flat to Luca instead of the cottage if you like? Although somebody has to look after the bloody fox.’

‘I’ll look after Lester’s cottage,’ she said in exasperation.

‘Good. That’s settled.’ A purr of laughter. ‘You can move your things across today.’

Pax set her jaw, realising her mother had plotted this from the conversation’s start. She longed to argue, but for all the Mack Shack boasted high-speed Internet and dry cupboards, she loathed the metal box in which her unhappy marriage had been hermetically sealed for so long. She knew Lester would trust her to look after his cottage more than a stranger. And she could be useful here. With the old stallion man out of action, the stud badly needed her help. For months she’d been filing for the sake of it in the office she and Mack shared, the company overwintering until they sold the barn conversions. Here there were paper piles as high as termite mounds.

Pax thrived on being needed. Her mother was right that the stud was somewhere secure and steeped in Kes’s family history, and she had very few alternatives. Her own childhood was close to the surface here, the village familiar and safe, her sister and Lester cornerstones.

The truth that Pax would admit to nobody, not even herself, was how frightened she was that she’d start drinking again if she went back to the Mack Shack. She glanced at cupboards in the kitchen dresser now, knowing Scotch was in there, longing to taste just a mouthful for its burn of confidence. But she wouldn’t give Luca O’Brien the satisfaction of seeing her fail. That was another reason to be here, however uncomfortable the company. She pinched her nails into her palms and headed out to Lester’s cottage.