Gus turned his face away from the rainbow and sucked his thumb. He had forgotten the beach and his room. This bed was his home now, with the stripey nurses who tugged at him and hurt him. No one came when he cried and he didn’t like the smells.

‘We won’t go away, Gus, I promise. It’s all still there, waiting for you under the rainbow. We’re counting the days…’

‘I don’t want it… put it away!’

‘I’m sorry, we thought a picture on the wall would cheer you up. I have to go back to Griseley soon to get on with my sewing but I’ll come back every weekend to visit you.’

‘Go away! I don’t like you. I want the nurse. Go away!’

His words tore at her heart on that second journey southwards in the van. Perhaps it was time to sell up or close down and come back for good. Sewing was no longer her first priority though it had always served her well to date.

Mustn’t rush into anything. There was too much still to sort out. She could never be without a thimble on her finger. Perhaps the business was part of that too. She had to go back to sort things out. Poor Polly must be floundering or wondering if she was going to have to find other work!

In her heart Netta knew Gus was on the mend when he started to complain. He was weary of hospital and all the fiddling about and adjustments to his leg braces. He fought them at first then accepted that they had to stay on, but he was too young to understand why he was hurting.

No one had bothered to explain to him why he should be massaged. Netta asked if she could attend some sessions to learn how to help the boy but was shooed away. No one from Brigg Farm was there to praise his first steps.

Peg and Angus busied themselves in a flurry of cleaning and decorating. Gus’s room was transformed ready for his homecoming. Netta stuffed a brand new Yumpy complete with a fresh suit of clothes. She would tell him that old Yumpy had been retired to a home for old suckies and his nephew, Yumpy Junior, had come in his place. He would not smell or taste the same but, given a few weeks to settle in, he soon would.

Netta smiled, thinking of Peg’s words, ‘You spoil the bairn.’ She had replied, ‘Listen to the kettle calling the pot black. Who bought a new candlewick bedspread and linoleum for the floor? What laddie would notice any of that?’ Then Peg said she was worried how he’d get up the stairs but Netta had asked if they were practising that in the hospital therapy room. She’d been informed that they were and the Nichol boy had a very stubborn streak.