By mid-morning, a third of the field has transformed to corrugated soil, contrasting sharply with the remaining grass. From the lane, they hear the chunter of a car engine and shortly after a figure appears in the gateway. He holds up a hand in greeting then makes his way across, waiting for them at the end of the furrow, his pocketed hands pushing back the sides of his shabby tweed jacket.

‘Morning, Ted,’ Gwen calls.

‘Morning, Gwen. Jim.’

Jack senses the stranger’s lingering scrutiny as Jim draws back on the reins, bringing the horses to a standstill.

‘Ted – how are you?’

‘Well, thank you. This is looking very nice.’

‘Ah, it’s turning well. What can we do for you?’

‘I’ve come to ask a favour. My Judy’s gone lame and I wanted to harrow the west field tomorrow. I wondered if there was any chance I might borrow one of your two?’ He nods towards the horses.

‘Ah, of course. I tell you what, when we’ve finished up here, I’ll get Gwen to walk Bobby over, Brenda can get the plough home on her own. You can put him out to graze and he’ll be all ready for you tomorrow then.’

‘That sounds good. Thank you, Jim. I’m most grateful to you.’

‘What are neighbours for, if not to help each other out? Now, I’ve just thought, you’ve not met my new labourer.’ Jim leans on the plough handle. ‘This here’s Jack, he’ll be helping me out for a few months.’

The farmer strides forward, his boots sinking into the turned earth. His paw-like hand swallows Jack’s in a fearsome grip.

‘Nice to meet you,’ Jack says, flexing his crushed fingers by his side.

‘That’s not a local accent.’

‘No.’

‘Where are you from?’

‘Sunderland,’ Jack says, pleased that this time the lie falls without hesitation.

‘You’re a long way from home.’

He shrugs. ‘I wanted to spread my wings a little, broaden my horizons.’

‘You farmed before?’

‘No, it’s all new to me.’

‘Ah, he’s taking to it like a duck to water,’ Jim crows from behind them, using the opportunity to fish his Woodbines from his jacket pocket. He offers the packet to his neighbour, who gladly pulls one free, but Jack, when offered, shakes his head.

‘And how are you, Gwen?’ Ted turns to address her, patting his pockets to elicit the tell-tale rattle of a matchbox.

‘I’m well, thank you.’

‘She’s off to the Summer Ball at Netley Hall on Saturday,’ Jim says, lighting up.

Ted locates his packet of Bryant and May, but this revelation gives him pause. ‘Saturday?’ He retracts his darted look from Jim and turns to Gwen. ‘This Saturday?’ he checks softly.

Jack notices how Gwen’s smile falters. ‘Jack’s going to keep Dad company, aren’t you, Jack?’ There is a stark desperation in the look she gives him.