Caleb smiled but his eyes were sad when he said, ‘I suppose so. I have forgotten. He taught me to whittle. I remember that.’ He spread his hands. ‘Now pass me that horse and I’ll see if we can fix it.’ Danny watched Caleb’s skilful hands turn his mangled piece of wood into something more approximating a horse.

They were both so engrossed they didn’t hear the hinges of the side gate squeak.

‘Good evening, young Daniel. What are you doing?’

Danny looked up, squinting into the sun. ‘Good evening, Mr Penrose. Caleb is teaching me to whittle.’

‘Is he indeed? Maybe I should take a lesson too but for the moment do you mind if I take your teacher away?’

A wave of disappointment swept over Danny as Caleb handed him back the horse, folded his knife and rose to his feet, dusting his hands on his trousers.

‘Sorry, Danny. Mr Penrose and I have some business. I’ll be back later.’

Danny shrugged and nodded. He turned the wooden horse in his hands as he watched the two men walk away.

Caleb and Will Penrose strolled in companionable silence up the main street to the north end of town.

‘Where are we heading?’ Caleb asked as they passed several respectable hostelries. Since Christmas, he had been able to take more weight on his injured leg and although he still walked with a noticeable limp, he was able to cover some distance.

Penrose cast him a quick smile. ‘I’ve been sent to fetch you to Lil’s Place.’ A shadow of doubt crossed the young man’s eyes. ‘If you want to go, of course. If not, we can always have a beer at the Britannia.’

‘Lil’s Place?’ Caleb mused. ‘I met a couple of charming young ladies from that establishment. Said they were dancers.’ He glanced at Penrose.

Penrose stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets and hunched his shoulders. Two spots of colour had appeared in his cheeks. ‘It’s not exactly respectable … it’s on the edge of town for a reason.’

‘That suits me just fine. I’m not entirely respectable either, and I could sure do with a real drink. I swear I will not be responsible for my actions if I am offered one more cup of tea.’

Even at this early hour, music and a rowdy crowd were spilling out of a double-storey timber building set back from the main road beyond the entrance to the mine. On the upstairs balcony, two young women leaned over the railing, exchanging ribald commentary with a group of miners in the street, the paucity of their clothing leaving Caleb in no doubt about their profession.

On seeing the two men approaching the bar, one of the women waved and Caleb recognised the youngest girl from the post office. She whispered something to her companion, who shouted down at them, ‘Tell Lil your first drink’s on Nell, Hunt!’