She heard the patter of little feet on the wooden stairs and the next moment Alice came bounding into the kitchen clutching her teddy bear. The bear was threadbare and patched and missing an eye; it had once been hers, and probably because of that it was the child’s favourite toy and she wouldn’t settle down for sleep without him.

Olive held out her arms and Alice threw herself into them, snuggling into her mother’s chest before she drew away and said, ‘Milk, please, Mam.’

Olive hugged her daughter tight and then lifted her into her highchair. The day was beginning and she had no more time for introspection, which was a good thing. Alice slept well but when she was awake she was on the go a hundred per cent. ‘A live wire,’ her da called his granddaughter, and Olive could remember that Ruby had been the same. In fact, there was a great deal about her daughter that reminded her of Ruby.

Shutting the door on that particular avenue of thought Olive busied herself with Alice’s beaker of warm milk, and as she fell into the routine of the morning, listening to the child’s chatter and watching her sunny little face, she counted her blessings.

As long as she had Alice nothing else mattered.

Olive would have been amazed to know that Adam was thinking about Alice too as he stepped into the cage that would take him and the rest of the fore shift into the bowels of the earth. Neither the gate slamming shut nor the cage taking off with a clash impinged on his thoughts; this had been his daily experience for years and the speed and seeming lack of control with which they descended was second nature to him.