‘You look done in, my girl. I’ll go and infuse the tea. You’re still peaky and your arms are like matchsticks. You need to put some weight on, pull yourself together before you think about the future. We can manage. We’ve managed so far just fine. I have baby to a strict routine. He knows who’s the gaffer and what’s what. So don’t go upsetting the applecart over Ne’rday.

‘My cousins, the Hustons, Sandy and Eileen and Morag – she’s about the same age as Gus – are coming for the night. It’ll be a chance to have a good blether and knees up at the Church Social. You can help me with the cooking.’

Alone in the spartan bedroom of her childhood with a hot water bottle airing the bed, joylessly, unpacking parcels, hanging her coat and one decent dress in a wardrobe smelling of mothballs, only then did a wave of sickness and dread engulf Netta’s spirit. Later at the tea table there was not one word of welcome home. Father was quiet, his head down, eyes flitting from Peg to his daughter, backwards and forwards. The silences were awkward and full of menace. Something hung unspoken in the air.

It was a relief to creep into the boxroom where Gus’s cot almost filled the room. He lay fast asleep, arms splayed out by his head, cheeks pink. He was wrapped in a woollen blanket coat, the flaps turned over into an envelope to keep his legs and feet cosy. The dressing gown was blue and looked new, not second-hand. It would have taken many coupons to purchase such a garment. The baby had kicked off his blankets so Netta leaned over to tuck him in; the first time she had seen her beautiful child alone.

Peg appeared from nowhere like a silent shadow. ‘Don’t touch him! He’s fast asleep!’

‘I was only tucking him in,’ Netta whispered.

‘That’s my job, I’m his mother now.’

She lay awake all night, hearing those words repeated in her head. Had she forfeited the right to her baby because she’d been ill? Netta cried into her pillow. Surely not? He was her flesh and blood, not Peg’s. He grew under her heart, not Peg’s. She was not even his real grandmother. How dare she claim him? And yet…