Gwen gestures for Jack to stand beside her at the tub. ‘Push them right under, any way you can. You must douse them fully. Just do as I do,’ she instructs as Jim begins to open the gates, urging the first sheep through, the next one following, until they are trotting down the narrow run in single file, bottlenecking at the final gate, just above the dipping tub.

‘A firm hand is what’s required, Jack,’ Jim shouts, as he climbs up onto the bottom rail of the run to release the last gate.

The first sheep barrels towards Gwen. She grabs two fistfuls of fleece and unceremoniously pitches it into the water, pushing it down until it is completely submerged before hauling it up to the surface again, water sloshing against the sides of the tub, splashing her overall and even her cheeks. She thrusts the animal towards Jack.

‘Dunk it again,’ she orders as she reaches for the next one, leaving Jack to grope inexpertly for the animal that is battling through the water to reach the far edge of the tub, freedom in its sights. He buries his fingers into its dense wool and, feeling the sheer strength of it as it struggles against him, he tightens his hold and attempts to force it under. He has just managed to submerge it when it strikes free of his grip and scrambles away from him. He gasps at the shock of cold water on his sun-warmed skin. The next animal is already paddling past him.

‘Grab it, quick,’ Gwen shouts, amusement playing in her voice.

Cursing, Jack grabs the rear of the escaping sheep, dragging it back as its front legs find purchase on the edge of the trough.

‘You make it look so bloody easy!’

Gwen and Jim laugh.

‘You need to be quicker, lad,’ Jim tells him, knocking the next sheep through.

It takes concentration for Jack to establish a rhythm. His shoulder knocks Gwen’s as their hands feed over each other passing the sheep between them, pushing and pulling, dunking and hauling, the air filling with the trepidatious bleats of the flock pressed together in the holding pen. Jack begins to relax into the motion, his spirits lifting at the sight of the released sheep shaking themselves like wet dogs as they scrabble free of the tub before trotting out into the daisy-speckled field behind.

The ring of a bicycle bell catches Jack’s attention. He is laughing at something Gwen has said when the shrill sound draws his eye to the side of the building. He fights to maintain a semblance of a smile as he sees a tall figure in a blue uniform wheeling the bike over the worn track towards them. The vein in Jack’s neck begins to pulse as his breaths shorten and his chest becomes strangely tight. He feels the bob of his Adam’s apple.