I told him not to, I might have said to her if the circumstances had been different. I told him to stick with his lodgings with the widow, wait it out, see what else might come up.

‘Oh, that’s no good.’ My mother’s voice was too unctuous to be sincere, and my father could hear it. He looked to his wife, then to me.

I took a large gulp of wine.

‘Esther Deezer threw him out,’ Luke went on, oblivious to the tension, his focus on the heaping of his next forkful. ‘Abe Powell said someone ought take him in.’

‘Well, you boys are bound to set him on the right track, aren’t you?’ said my mother gaily.

My father grunted and turned to me. ‘You’re to steer clear of him, Leah, you hear me? He’s worked his way into Jacob Crane’s pocket and…’ He took a mouthful of food as if plugging the barrel of a gun.

Luke stopped shovelling, understanding well the pattern of Peter Cedars’ moods – how to recognise the signs of a coming storm.

My father swallowed. ‘He’s just not to be trusted, all right?’

We ate without talking, my mother and I taking great slugs of wine, until, fortified by alcohol, my mother decided to return to the subject.

‘The man made a momentary stumble,’ she said. ‘That’s all it’ll be, I’m sure.’

‘“Momentary stumble”?’ My father threw down his cutlery. Luke visibly jumped.

‘Well, we must have hope in him changing his ways, mustn’t we, Peter?’ my mother persisted. ‘Because… Because…’ Her eyes went upwards in search of scripture.

My mind worked faster.

‘If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.’

My father was silenced by the quotation, but not satisfied.

‘Aren’t you hungry, Leah?’ he said.

I had pulled apart a potato and eaten just a small morsel of chicken.

‘I had too many olives,’ I said. ‘Before. And –’ The words left my mouth before I knew what I was doing ‘– now I have to go.’ I drained my glass and stood.

‘Where?’ demanded my father.

‘The Anchor. I promised Ruth and Cat I would see them there.’

My mother twitched at the lie but tamped down her impulse to call it out.

‘Sit down,’ said my father.

‘I can’t, Dad. Sorry.’

‘Your mother has cooked. You will stay and eat,’

Luke’s eyes went wide at this spectacle, his former teacher being scolded like a child.

‘Let her go, Peter,’ said my mum, forcing a laugh for Luke’s sake. ‘She’s a grown woman; she can do what she likes.’