‘I suppose you are right. It’s a bloody sad day when your father is doing a woman’s job. But I don’t want to be a burden to anyone.’ Archie pushed his way through the flock of sheep and made for the first shearer with a fleece ready for wrapping. He shook out the lanolin-filled fleece, folding all the odd pieces of it into the middle, and just leaving the tail-end to be used for tying the fleece up. He rolled the fleece tight like a rolled-up blanket and then pulled the tail-end tightly around the fleece. Then he tucked it into itself, before throwing the fleece into the huge hessian sack that the wool merchant had left to be filled on the back of the cart in the corner of the farmyard. He then quickly moved on to the next.

Danny watched his father. He was an awkward old devil. Why didn’t he just take it easy and sit and watch them all? Clipping was a young man’s job, and he wished Archie had stopped down at Windfell, just for today. He picked up his shears and joined the group of men; as his father had said, the sooner they all started the better. It was going to be a long day.

Archie leaned back and stretched. He ached from bending down and rolling fleeces. He sat back on the edge of the garden steps and watched those who, to him, looked like young men, as Harriet poured a drink of tea into enamel mugs and made sure each man was amply fed with warm bacon and hard fried-egg sandwiches, followed by rhubarb pie and cream. She was a good woman really; the death of her two children had made her hard, though, and had spoilt her onetime gentle ways. He had always thought she was right for Danny, a good farmer’s wife as well as being a good mother, despite what Harriet thought of herself. It was a pity they weren’t getting on so well at present. No doubt he hadn’t helped by wanting to move in; and telling Danny that he had a son at Ragged Hall would only have made him think about what he might have had. Perhaps he shouldn’t have said anything.

‘Thanks, Harriet, that looks grand. You make a good pie, just like my mother did, and that’s a true compliment.’ Archie smiled up at her as she stood beside him with the enamel jug of tea, after pouring him a cup.

‘Thank you, Father, and thank you for rolling the fleeces for me. It’s been a good help.’ Harriet pulled her skirts around her and sat next to her father-in-law. She did love him, she just hadn’t wanted him to live with them. Things were fraught enough, without another body to look after.