Gwyneth’s tone was thoughtful as she scooped a handful of seeds out of a nearby tin and filled Coco’s bowl. ‘It’s good to see he’s come to his senses at last,’ she commented. ‘Let’s hope that’s an end to it.’ Her sharp gaze fell on her granddaughter. ‘I suppose you’d better ask Ben round here for his tea,’ she said briskly. ‘If he’s going to be a part of this family, then I want to get a proper look at him and make sure he’s as reliable as his father.’

Becky shuddered at the prospect. Gwyneth was daunting at the best of times, but when she played the family matriarch to the hilt, she was impossible. ‘Perhaps it would be better to leave it a bit,’ she said hastily. ‘He’s very busy at the moment.’

She pushed through the screen door and, with a muttered promise to come back later, fled to the sanctuary of the hospital.

The ward and veranda were empty when she returned, but for Bert, who was refusing to leave his bed. He sat with his arms folded, his expression belligerent as Becky took his temperature and declared him fit to go home.

‘Yeah? And how’s that then?’ he whined. ‘Jake’s shut me pub. I ain’t got no home – and I still ain’t feeling well.’ He screwed up his face and rubbed his midriff. ‘Me belly hurts something rotten.’

Becky was about to reply when Enid Harper appeared with a bucket of soapy water, a rubber tube and a suction pump. The expression on the older woman’s face was one of determination and not to be dismissed lightly. ‘If you’re not well enough to go home, Bert,’ she said in her strident voice, ‘then you obviously need an enema. Roll on to your side and pull down your pyjamas.’

‘You ain’t coming near me with that thing,’ he gasped in horror, clutching the sheet to his chin as he edged away from her.

‘Come along now, don’t be shy,’ she boomed as she continued to advance on him, the rubber tube dangling from her hand. ‘A good enema will sort things out, and you’ll be feeling better in no time.’

‘Reckon I was mistaken,’ he gabbled, swinging out of bed and grabbing his clothes. ‘Must have been that breakfast making me feel crook.’

Enid Harper watched with gimlet eyes as he hastily dragged his clothes on over his pyjamas and clamped his hat over his thinning hair. ‘Well,’ she said sternly, ‘if you’re sure.’

He darted round her, his gaze fixed on the dangling rubber hose and the bucket. Without another word he was out of the hospital and almost running down the street.