How quickly Mother’s things were cleared away from Netta’s loving touch: her tortoiseshell hairbrushes and combs, the silver-topped bottles, the bangles and beadwork purse and that special necklace. Her clothes were packed away and the cupboard rattled with empty hangers on the rod. Each time Netta came home from school there were further changes. Peg MacBain did not go back to Kilmarnock but stood at the range dishing out meals and clean laundry, feeding the hens and polishing the dark oak. Soon the smells of home became Peg’s own peculiar sour smells, of meat pie and scouring powder. Her smalls hung over the pulley to dry. Netta wished she would disappear. Peg loomed over her childhood like a dark shadow, black hair peppered with oatmeal, pinafore floury and greasy over her heavy bust and rounded belly. Netta always thought of her as a plain clothes and porridge sort of woman.

Angus Nichol changed with her staying. Netta saw that he could look at Peg now without wincing and they shared little jokes. Netta was too young then to recognise the signals but she sensed a strange dark smell of a different spice in the air.

All these thoughts raced through her head again as she dressed quickly and made for the narrow staircase up to the loft with her lamp. She must not leave empty-handed again, without her photographs and everything else that belonged to her.

*

‘Who is that up in the loft?’ Peg stirred from her sleep. Angus chuntered and snuffled but did not move. Until that buzzer in his head woke him for the milking he was dead to the world. Peg could hear footsteps above. Surely Gus was not awake at this hour? It must be Netta rooting through the cases. Angus had said she was on about photographs. Let her search, there was nothing up there of interest. The sooner that young woman was on her way back south to England the better. Her visits had to be endured, but her coming brought Peg out in itchy bumps. Like the proverbial bad penny she rolled up each summer with her fancy presents and now swanking a borrowed motor car. They were not fooled for one minute by all her dainty clothes and eagerness to please. Netta was only a jumped up seamstress for all her big ideas, making fancy gowns for women with more money than sense. It was about time the girl faced the truth and settled down to her life in England.