We were all asleep when the caravan lurched and he fell in the doorway. Zima did not stir. She was lying on her back, snoring like a trooper, all tumbled into bed in her finery. I had seen a new gilt necklace around her neck and guessed that she had not been wasting her time while Da was out drinking. The caravan rocked like a ship in a storm at sea when Da blundered in and then bounced like a jogging horse when he tried to mount Zima, drunk as he was. I heard Dandy snigger under her blanket as we heard him curse and blame the ale, but I could not laugh. I turned my face to the familiar stained wall and thought of a sandstone-yellow house amid a tall well-timbered park and a stallion as white as sea spray trotting down the drive towards me as I stood on the terrace in a riding habit as green as grass with a clean linen petticoat.

Da paid for his drinking in the morning, but Zima paid for it worst. He saw the gilt necklace and wanted the money she had been paid. She swore she had only had one man, and only been paid a shilling but he did not believe her and set to beating her with her shoe. Dandy and I made haste to get under the wheels of the wagon and well out of harm’s way. Dandy stopped to snatch up the baby and lug her to safety with us, and got a backhanded clout for her pains. She was soft-hearted about the little wretch, she was always afraid that Zima would throw it at Da in a rage.

We were under the wagon with the swearing and breaking crockery loud above us when I saw Robert Gower come out on to his step with a mug of tea in his hand and his pipe in his mouth.

He nodded good morning to us as if he was deaf to the thuds and screams from our wagon, and sat in the sunshine puffing on his pipe. Jack came out to sit beside his father, but we both stayed in our refuge. If Da was still angry he couldn’t reach us under the wagon unless he poked us out with the butt of the whip, and we were gambling he wouldn’t bend over with the beer still thudding in his head. It was getting quieter above, though Zima had started sobbing noisily, and then she stopped. Dandy and I sat tight until we were sure the storm was over, but Robert Gower walked towards our wagon and called out, ‘Joe Cox?’ when he was three paces from the shafts.

Da came out, we felt the caravan rock above our heads and I pictured him, rubbing frowsty eyes and squinting at the sunlight.