Gwen is sullen as they fill the concrete tub in the back field with water and, when the task is complete, she strides off towards the barn without a word, leaving Jack to hurry after her. Tucked in a murky corner, amongst hessian sacks of seed and feed, is a bag of powder detergent. They both reach for it at the same time.

‘I can manage.’

‘I don’t doubt it.’

Recognising her fight is with her father alone, Gwen relents with a peevish sigh and steps away. Jack grips the top corners of the sack but makes no move to lift it.

‘You’re already seeing him, aren’t you? That lad.’

‘It’s hardly any of your business.’

‘No, lass, it certainly isn’t,’ he admits quietly. Still he does not lift the sack.

‘You won’t say anything, will you? To Dad, I mean?’ she says at last.

His breath escapes through his teeth. ‘Like I say, lass, it isn’t my business to get involved.’

‘He’s done nothing wrong, Jack – nothing to earn Dad’s contempt.’

‘Jim’s just trying to protect you.’

‘From what? Life?’ Her hands lift in frustration. ‘I’m old enough to make my own decisions and, if necessary, my own mistakes. But it’s not a mistake. Dad can’t believe that someone like Gordon could ever truly want someone like me. But he does. It’s not Gordon who cares about the differences between us – it’s my own father. That’s the irony. He should be happy for me.’

‘So instead you’re running around behind his back? Hiding notes for each other, is that it?’

‘You did see me then.’

‘At the gate? I did.’

‘Well, how else are we supposed to communicate when Dad refuses to let him anywhere near the place?’

He does not want to know about her affair, and yet now the secret is shared between them, he is greedy for more information, even though each morsel sticks in his throat and once swallowed rests like lead in his stomach.

‘So, if you don’t mind me asking, how long has this been going on?’

‘A couple of months.’ Her voice warms with the reminiscence. ‘Long enough for us to know how we feel about each other. We met at the Hunt Ball. He came up to the house a couple of days later to ask me out, but Dad sent him packing. We found a way, though, to see each other.’

‘And has he tried talking with your dad since then?’

‘Gordon? Why would he want to? You’ve seen for yourself how Dad is with him.’

‘Has he tried though? Walked up to the door and asked to speak to him, man to man?’

‘Well … no … because we both know what sort of reception he’ll get.’

Jack rests his weight on the sack, the hessian crushed in his tightening fists. ‘But he’s going to have to sometime, surely?’