Netta gazed through the window up to the brow of Stratharvar hill and prayed for help from her mother, but there was no guiding voice in her ear. Instead in her mind’s eye there was a snapshot of Gus standing woebegone at the nursery school door, in his blazer and cap, with his pump bag wrapped across his shoulder, looking bewildered and lost: just a baby abandoned to strangers while she was busy at work. Who would wipe his nose and cuddle away his fears or find Yumpy when he wandered? Who would explain all this to him in Griseley?

Netta slid down the wall to the floor, crouching into a ball, weeping at her foolish fantasies. Gus was far too young to be separated from everything at Brigg Farm. Perhaps in two or three years? Perhaps when he was ready for school? How could she have been so selfish and blind not to see that this was all about her need of him, not his need of her.

You’re taking him back like some trophy to show off, she told herself. Look what I’ve got everybody, like a rabbit out of a hat. Your precious secret, indeed! How could you be so ignorant and so selfish? You don’t even know how parenthood works. You’re going to have to learn a lot more about Gus before you try this exercise again.

Netta wept for all her false dreams and the shattering of precious hope then dried her eyes and went downstairs.

No one spoke at the tea table. The atmosphere was chilly before she broke the silence. ‘I’ve been thinking over what you said, Father. It is too early to take Gus back with me. It would upset him, I see that now. It doesn’t mean I’m not going to come back for him, only I shall wait until he can understand who I really am and why I want him to live with me. So you can eat your tea in peace now, Peg. He’s all yours for the moment.’ Netta speared a spud with her fork, waiting for their grateful reaction.

‘You’ve put us through hell this week, my lady. Don’t you ever do that to us again! In his eyes we’ll always be his parents and you know it! That’s the way it’ll stay for the next few years, until he’s old enough to make up his own mind. You can come and visit, of course, far be it from us to deny you your rights! Being a parent isn’t as easy as it looks, ma girl! You’ve a lot to learn.’ And Peg tucked into her stew and dumplings with relish.

Saturday Teatime in Kendal, 1949