One noticed as it got dark how the yellows stood out. The yellow flowers held their colour as other colours dulled, the yellow flowers and the first yellow leaves. She always remarked on that, how in autumn as the sun grew low some colours seemed to hold its light, the last of the goldenrod and the rudbeckia and then some asters that were just coming out, a particular variety of aster that had pale mauve petals and a yellow centre that shone out in the dusk. Something to do with the spectrum, Charlie had once told her, and whatever type of ray of sunlight it was that bent over the curve of the horizon, some piece of science which she had never quite bothered to understand. What need to understand what was there before one’s eyes? She walked until the last hint of colour was lost. The dog was back at the door before her.

She woke in an empty house. Did the chores of the morning downstairs, not going back up. She would have Mrs T clean the boys’ room when she came on Tuesday. She would leave it till then. Until then she could not bear to enter it.

It was as if they were out with Charlie. He had come and taken them away. Hey, boys, do you want to come out with me, shoot some rabbits, there were a hundred rabbits on the Five Acre today, we need to scare them off, but come quickly while I’ve got time – no, don’t tell your mother, she’ll fuss over your coats, it’s not cold, come as you are – and they’d gone out, the three of them with Jess. But Jess was home in the kitchen, on the rug in front of the Aga. Jess hadn’t gone. They weren’t out there on the Five Acre, the tall man and the two boys, the man and the older of the boys carrying guns and the younger one the lead to the golden dog (but only to give him something to do, because the dog was well trained and needed no lead at a time like that), and the bunnies scattering away from them. And if they hadn’t been there, then they wouldn’t be in the spinney either. Jess raised her head. Come on, Jess, let’s go for a walk. The dog rose, and she put on her boots and this time it was she who took up the lead, not attaching it, only putting it into her pocket, just in case, since she was walking blind, did not know where they were going and whether or not they would chance to meet livestock or find themselves walking along a road where the lead would be needed, and went out. The sky was a deep blue September sky but smudged low across the landscape here and there where men were burning stubble. There was barely a wind, only the highest leaves of the trees faintly moving and a tinge of burning in the air. It felt as still outdoors as it had been in the house, where only she had moved and the dog, but in the distance she could see that the men were taking advantage of the stillness to get the burning done, setting thick bands of smoke flowing across the fields. When she got to the Five Acre it was already burnt, the ground satin black. No pickings left for the birds. Jackson must have burnt it just the day before. Always quick on the job, old Jackson, Charlie used to say. Doesn’t let the grass grow under his feet – or the stubble lie. Jackson had been quick to take up a contract on the land. Charlie would have expected that, would have expected him to take over the farm and would probably have thought him the best man for the job. He’s a bit of a hard man, but a good farmer, Jackson, Charlie would say, looking over at his neighbour’s fields. Why was it that Charlie’s voice kept coming back to her now, ringing in her ears? Well it was gone now, the last of the last crop that he had planted. She felt hard as Jackson. Tougher now that it was burnt and gone.