‘And I will do anything to get my son.’ Gordon wheels around to face Gwen. ‘I gave you a chance to do this the easy way, Gwen. But if it’s a fight you want, it’s a fight you’ve got, and I assure you now, it’s a fight I’ll win.’ He starts walking away. ‘You’ll be hearing from my solicitor shortly.’ He spins back to face them both. ‘I’m not playing games here. You might want to think very carefully about your next move. I tried to do this the decent way, but now the gloves are well and truly off.’

Chapter Forty-Eight

‘A penny for them.’

Jack is startled by Nora’s interruption. He is leaning against the gatepost watching the herd as they snort and huff past him on their way up the yard, the lamp in his hand warding off the pre-dawn darkness. Its light glistens on the Land Girl’s lipstick as he briefly swings it towards her.

‘You must have been up with the lark,’ she persists when he fails to respond, but Jack refuses to be drawn. He has hardly slept and does not feel equipped to match her spirit this morning. Allingham’s visit weighs heavily on his mind. But that is not all.

He had urged Gwen to return inside once Allingham’s car had pulled away. The confrontation had left her quivering and she offered no objection. She ran back to the house with her arms wrapped around her middle, as if endeavouring to hold herself together. Seething, he had finished fastening the gate.

As he turned to go, the rasp of a struck match stopped him in his tracks. Ted had emerged from the shadow of the blackthorn hedge, his features thrown into relief by the flickering flame he brought up to light his cigarette. Neither of them spoke. Ted had batted out the match and then walked away, watched by Jack until he was swallowed by the darkness.

‘You’ve gone again.’ Nora’s elbow digs into his arm, bringing him back to the present. ‘Lost in those thoughts of yours.’

The last cow lumbers past, its hip joints undulating under its stretched hide, clouds of damp air emanating from its wet nostrils. Lamplight follows it as Jack pushes himself up to start his slow pursuit. Nora wastes no time in placing herself beside him.

‘What time do you get up? I mean, I’m up early, God knows, but however early I get up, I never hear you leave.’

‘I try not to wake anyone. It seems I’m succeeding.’

‘But I never hear you at all. How on earth do you get across that landing – down those stairs – without setting off one creaking board? It’s impossible.’

She is laughing, but he can detect the cunning behind her words. Suspicion. He stops, dazzling her with the paraffin lamp.