The stairs creak as they walk up, one behind the other. Gwen opens the door of the linen press and Jack experiences a curious sense of déjà vu, but he knows it is only his memory playing tricks on him, sending him back in time to when he stood on this very landing with Muriel, feeling just as unwelcome as he sadly feels now. Tom’s door is ajar, and he fights the temptation to sneak a look at the slumbering child. Gwen hands him the mattress roll – cinched once again with belts – and a feather pillow whose cotton cover sports pale yellow stains, while she takes an armful of pressed sheets and a thick woollen blanket.

They hurry downstairs to secrete the stash in the sitting room, hiding it behind the settee as they hear Nora enter the kitchen, whistling, her outside chores complete. They wait in silence, listening to her retreating footsteps and the clack of her bedroom door, and when all is quiet, they retrieve the bedding and creep out to the stables.

Jack pauses at what was once Arthur’s loosebox, noting the absence of bedding and the lack of hay in the wall basket.

‘Where’s Arthur?’ he asks, dreading the answer.

‘Sold, years back.’ She looks down, but not before he sees the flash of pain in her eyes. She shakes her head, as if to dispel the unpleasant memories he fears his question has evoked. ‘It quickly became apparent I wouldn’t be able to look after him. Dad made it clear that if I couldn’t exercise him myself then the kindest thing to do was to let him go.’

‘I’m sorry, lass. I know what he meant to you.’

She accepts his sympathies with a curt nod, then briskly leads him into the tack room, setting down the paraffin lamp she has been using to light their way. Jack looks around him and considers how, compared to everything else, the tack room at least has remained unchanged.

He drops the rolled mattress onto the wooden slats of the camp bed, then takes the bedding from Gwen’s arms.

‘I’ll make it up for you …’ she offers, but he shakes his head.

‘I can manage. You’d best get in.’

She drifts to the door. ‘She said it would be selfish of me to try and keep Tom.’

‘Who?’

‘Gordon’s wife. She tried to persuade me that if I really loved Tom, I’d give him up … so he could have a chance at a better life. A better life than the one I can give him, anyway. Am I being selfish, Jack?’ Moonlight falls upon her through the window. ‘Am I putting myself before my son? Am I denying him a life of riches and opportunity, just to safeguard my own happiness?’

‘Gwen … you know that’s not right.’

‘Do I? She made a convincing argument.’