‘But I wanna go and hear Frank tell his stories,’ he protested. ‘Then me and Billy wanna—’

She silenced him by tilting up his chin so he had to look at her. ‘Granny Gwyn’s had an accident and would appreciate a visit. How about we go together?’

His petulance disappeared immediately. ‘What sort of accident? She’s not real crook, is she?’

‘She’s dislocated her jaw and hurt her leg, and she’s feeling rather sorry for herself, but she’ll be right. Come on. We can visit for a little while and cheer her up before you go and sort out her animals and watch Jim and Frank unload.’ She picked up a notebook and pencil and nudged him off the veranda towards the isolation room.

Gwyneth was lying in solitary splendour with her bandaged leg resting on a pillow. But she didn’t look too happy about the white crepe that was tightly bound under her chin and over her head, and she glowered at them as they came into the room. ‘About time,’ she managed to mutter.

‘Don’t try to talk, Gran,’ said Becky. ‘Look, I’ve brought you these so you can write down whatever you want to say.’

Gwyneth eyed the notebook and pencil and set them aside. She glared at Danny, who seemed fascinated by the head bandages. ‘I know I look like some ancient nun in a wimple,’ she said through her restricted jaw. ‘Don’t you dare laugh.’

‘But you do look funny, Gran,’ he replied, scrambling on to the bed to get a better look and leaving smears of dirt on the pristine sheets.

‘At least I’m clean,’ she retorted. ‘You look as if you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards. And mind my leg,’ she added sharply as Danny shifted on the bed. ‘I’ve had stitches.’

‘Cor,’ said Danny. ‘Let’s have a look.’

‘You’ll do no such thing,’ said Becky sharply. ‘And get off the bed, Danny. Your feet are filthy.’

He slid to the floor and leaned his elbows on the counterpane, his gaze fixed to his grandmother’s bandages as if by sheer will he could see the scars beneath them. ‘Does it hurt, Gran?’ he asked. ‘Was there lots of blood and stuff?’

‘Gallons of it,’ said Gwyneth.

Rebecca sighed in exasperation. ‘If you keep talking, you’ll dislocate that jaw again. Please, Gran, do as you’re told for once and use the notepad.’

Gwyneth flapped her hand at Rebecca in dismissal as Danny began to bombard her with questions.

As Gwyneth haltingly supplied all the gory details, Becky gave up trying to give advice and after a few moments decided to leave them to it and go in search of a much needed cup of tea.

*