Jack doesn’t understand why his presence should make all the difference, but she offers no further explanation.

‘Anyway, I shouldn’t delay you any longer … I just thought you’d like them up for tomorrow morning.’

He accompanies her to the outside door, where Kip is waiting patiently in a scoop of moonlight.

‘Goodnight, Jack.’

‘Goodnight, Gwen. And thank you … for the curtains.’

‘Well, I don’t want to see anything I shouldn’t when I come to wake you up at the crack of dawn.’

He matches her wry grin and watches her walk away with the dog at her heels, feeling suddenly more awake than ever.

Chapter Fifteen

Jack

June 1939

The day’s task is to plough up the fallow field Jack has thistled and hedged. Gwen shows him how to tack up the two Clydesdales, positioning the black leather harnesses over their broad backs before fastening buckles and girths. When the horses are bedecked and chomping the jointed metal bits lying in the hollows between their teeth, they lead them, one apiece, across the yard from the stable block to the implement shed. They hold them steady while Jim couples up the plough, attaching lengths of chain to their huge collars.

Jack expresses an interest in learning to work with the horses and Jim notes the natural affinity he shares with them. The two giants respond well to his quiet disposition, nuzzling his shoulder as he wraps an arm under their platter cheeks to whisper in their twitching ears.

‘We’ll soon have you working this pair,’ Jim says as he gathers up the length of rein and lifts the ploughshare clear of the ground.

They walk down the lane, Jim running the plough on its wheel while Gwen and Jack grip onto the horses’ bridles. The day is overcast; the light of the watery sun is diffused by a thin film of cloud, and the damp air threatens rain.

They lead the horses through the gateway and line them up ready, leaving a margin at the edge of the field. Jim calls for Jack to join him, while Gwen remains at the horses’ heads. He talks him through the handling of the reins and how to guide the plough so that its blade slices through the heavy clay, which the mouldboard behind turns over into smooth plasticine folds. He shows him how to bring the horses round at the end of the furrow and how to line them up so that the ridges form in perfect symmetry. Jack quickly appreciates there is artistry in the farmer’s handling of steel and steed. Heads bowed, the horses cross the field to the rattle of chain and clink of metal as the blades catch on flints and stones. Above them, a flock of gulls whirl and cry, pitching periodically to plunder the freshly exposed earth. The threatening rain holds off.