Peggy leaned on the new sink and rested her chin in her hand as she watched the activity. She still couldn’t get over the fact that Bob was a man – a tall, handsome man just like his father, with the strong arms and big, capable hands that a farmer needed, and the weathered complexion of someone who spent his days out of doors.

She bit her lip as she watched her sons leave the coop and start fooling about with the dogs. They were as tall as each other and had the dark hair and bright blue Reilly eyes, but as big and grown-up as they were, it seemed they still possessed their grandfather’s aptitude for mischief.

Ron stopped forking the ground to turn his back to the wind and fill his pipe, and she giggled as Bob surreptitiously removed the fork and hid it behind the coop. Ron began patting all his pockets, looking puzzled, for he’d left his tobacco pouch on the garden wall, and hadn’t seen Charlie slip it into his own pocket. Both boys were trying very hard not to laugh when a bewildered Ron stared at the spot where his garden fork had been and turned a complete circle in search of it.

‘Ach, to be sure, you’re a couple of wee divils,’ he roared, more for effect than from any real anger. ‘You wait until I get hold of you, then you’ll be laughing on the other sides of your wee faces so you will.’

‘You’ve got to catch us first, Grandad,’ said Charlie.

Ron made a grab for him, but he vaulted over the back wall, and Bob shot out of the gate. The dogs barked and chased after them, leaving Ron shaking his head as they disappeared up the hill. ‘’Tis grand it is you can run,’ he shouted after them. ‘But I’ll get me own back, you see if I don’t.’

Daisy was laughing so hard she lost her balance and plumped down onto the path.

Charlie’s cheeky face appeared round the corner. ‘Lost anything, Grandad?’

Ron just caught the roll of tobacco that came sailing over the wall, and shook his fist good-naturedly before settling his rump against the wall to fill his pipe and get it lit. He cupped his filthy hands around the match and caught sight of Peggy watching him through the window. Shrugging his shoulders and grinning broadly, he followed tell-tale Daisy to the back of the coop to retrieve his fork.

Peggy turned from the window and went to check on the chicken stew which was bubbling away in the slow oven. Ron and Bob had agreed that the hens were now too old to be productive, so they would use them for stews, soups and stock. This was the first of eight, and although it was sad to see them gutted and plucked, it did mean they’d provide good, filling meals for quite a while – and would be a welcome change from the usual rabbit.