Gravity, doing its work. Gunson, doing his.

He would inspect the weir before riding back to town. Head lowered against the furious gusts of rain funnelling down the steep-sided valley, Gunson crossed the foot of the embankment to the bottom of the weir that curved down from the reservoir into the river below. It was dry. If the torrential downpours of the past few weeks continued, the overspill would do its job. That point had not yet been reached.

The ride home was uneventful, and Gunson thought he would visit with his wife before returning to the office. He found her in the parlour at the upright piano, a glass of water sitting on a white lace doily on top. Gunson picked up the glass, examined the clear liquid and gulped it down, wiping his heavily bearded chin with the back of his hand. A clean and fresh supply. The townspeople took it for granted.

‘Ah, I needed that.’

Charlotte smiled at him and lowered the lid on the keys. ‘This is a nice surprise, John. And I must say you’re looking very pleased with yourself.’

‘Well, I am, I am pleased. I’ve just been up to take a look at the dam and now I’m going into the office…’

‘I thought you were home for the day! Now I’m disappointed.’

‘…to check some paperwork, and then I shall return home to you, my dear. What’s for supper?’

‘Lamb, I think. I’d have to check with—’

‘No, no.’ He patted his belly, which was continuing its baffling expansion, an accretion of weight that had begun when he entered his fifties. ‘The company will be better than anything I could wish to eat.’

‘Goodness me. I am flattered. What has put you into such a good mood?’

He bent to kiss her cheek. There was grey in the ringlets that dangled beneath her lace cap. It suited her. There was nothing that could diminish her beauty in his eyes. ‘I won’t be long.’

‘Fortuitous,’ she said, ‘that you should purchase a house so convenient for work.’

‘If you truly hated Division Street, my dear, I would move us into the country. Have cows for company.’

‘I know you could not tolerate that, though I am tempted by the thought of the fresh air and net curtains that aren’t grey with soot five minutes after they’ve been washed. Don’t get too wet!’

Once outside, Gunson thrust his hands into his jacket pockets. He hadn’t bothered with his cloak or gloves for a walk of a few hundred yards and was already regretting this decision. Moving closer to the wall to avoid being splashed by a passing coach, Gunson became aware of a figure approaching from the opposite direction. When he saw who it was, he cursed himself for stepping into the other man’s path and doubly so for looking up and making eye contact when he could have kept his head down and forged ahead, the weather being excuse enough against any suggestion of impoliteness.