The cage clanged to a stop and he let the other miners go first, several of whom – including his brothers – looked as hungover as he felt. His father was the last one to leave in front of him and as they walked into the main road, which was well lit, unlike where they’d be working, his father turned and said, ‘All right, lad?’

He nodded. He knew his mam and da worried about him but he didn’t want their concern or their pity; he just wanted to be left alone.

‘Your mam was wondering if you and Olive and the bairn’d be round on Sunday?’

He shook his head. ‘Things to do,’ he said briefly. He knew if he went it would turn into another drinking session with his father and brothers once Sunday tea was over and the women and bairns took over the front room while the menfolk stayed in the kitchen, and he wanted neither the drink nor the conversation which would centre exclusively on the coal owners and what the unions should do. He had to get a handle on the drink, he knew that; he couldn’t carry on as he was.

His father shrugged. ‘Please yourself,’ he said as he turned and walked on ahead. ‘But you know you’re always welcome, and your mam likes to see Olive and the bairn.’

Adam gritted his teeth but didn’t reply. He had no real beef with his parents except that they seemed determined to forget how Olive had tricked him into getting wed and to act as though their marriage was a normal one. They’d even grown to like Olive; his mam in particular showed her approval in a hundred little ways that grated on him every time they were round there. ‘No one makes a fruit cake like Olive.’ ‘There’s not a bairn as well turned out as our little Alice.’ ‘Never seen a speck of dirt in your kitchen, lass.’ Oh, aye, he’d heard it all.