‘It’s good enough and I can’t bear the thought of another day trapped in the office. I persuaded Dad last night to let me resume my duties. I have a present for you.’ She holds out a folded white coat that matches her own. He takes it, bewildered. ‘Today we make a dairy farmer out of you. Come on, I’m going to teach you to milk a cow.’

The lane is deserted as they go to collect the herd. The rising sun streaks the horizon with gold and stains the clustering clouds pink, while a fine mist hovers low over the fields, like the exhaled breath of a land stirring to life. The morning chorus is already playing at full volume.

The cows jog up the field when Gwen calls, their great hulks rippling. She holds the gate wide and they lumber through, steam billowing from their nostrils.

‘Watch out, they’ll happily trample you if you stand in their way,’ she warns and Jack drops back to the grass verge that glistens with dew.

The cows lead the way back to the farm, their bony hips rising and falling under thinly stretched hides, their purple-veined udders swelling between their hind legs. Kip saunters left to right behind them, occasionally falling back to investigate an enticing scent in the hedgerow, before sprinting to catch up.

‘You’ve been doing this forever, I suppose …’ Jack says, when the silence between them becomes strained. ‘Helping your dad?’

Gwen calls Kip away from something decomposing in the undergrowth. ‘Not at first. It was after Mum died that I started taking a real interest. I think …’ She looks off into the distance as she collects her thoughts. ‘I think when she died I became terrified that Dad would die too, and then what would happen to me? So, I’d follow him around to keep an eye on him – make sure he was all right.’

She smiles. ‘I drove Muriel mad. She’d leave me for five minutes stewing apple on the range and come back to find the apple burnt dry, the back door flung open and me nowhere in sight. Dad would send me back in with a flea in my ear, but it didn’t make any difference. I used to take off from school too. As soon as morning break came, I’d sneak over the playground wall and make my way home.’ Her laugh rings with impish delight. ‘When he was at his wits’ end, Dad offered me a deal: he’d let me help with anything he was doing, as long as I’d spent all day in school getting my education. That seemed fair enough.’

‘So, is there anything you don’t do?’