When she swayed, both men moved as one but it was Nathaniel who steadied her, taking her weight as he half-carried her over to one of the armchairs in front of the range. Even in these moments of acute stress he was aware of the silky softness of her hair brushing his cheek and the thick shadow of her eyelashes on porcelain-fine skin. His voice slightly unsteady, he murmured, ‘It’s OK, it’s OK,’ as he lowered her into the seat and then squatted down in front of her, chafing one of her hands between his. ‘Just breathe, that’s it, nice and steady.’

She hadn’t fainted but she’d come close, and now as Rose opened her eyes she stared at Nathaniel vacantly for a moment before withdrawing her hand and whispering, ‘I’m all right.’

‘It’s the shock,’ he said softly. ‘Take a few minutes. Look, I’ll put the kettle on. Lean back and shut your eyes.’

Rose didn’t protest; in truth she was feeling most peculiar. She felt hot and sick and Nathaniel’s voice seemed a long way off. She heard him talking to the foreman in a low voice and the man saying something in return, but it wasn’t until she heard the back door open and close that she opened her eyes to find she and Nathaniel were alone.

‘He had to go back to the yard – I said I’d stay with you for a while,’ Nathaniel said in answer to her stare. ‘Now sit still till you’ve drunk something, it’ll make you feel better.’

Davey, Davey, Davey. His name was reverberating in her head. He couldn’t be dead, not her Davey. She closed her eyes again, feeling as weak as a kitten. He was so full of life, so exuberant and funny; only this morning he’d had her in fits of laughter over their breakfast, imitating Mick Duffy from three doors down when he’d had a few, singing ‘When Irish Eyes are Smiling’. No one could make her laugh like Davey.

It was a minute or two before Nathaniel touched her arm; she opened her eyes as he said, ‘Here, I’ve put plenty of sugar in, for the shock I mean.’

She took the cup and saucer from him. ‘Thank you.’ Swallowing hard, she whispered, ‘What happened?’

‘Rose, don’t think about that now—’

‘I want to know.’

He stood looking down at her for a moment. ‘Like Ferry said, he fell.’

‘What from? How? Did you see it?’

He nodded. ‘We were working together on a saddle tank and the manhole cover gave way. He – he didn’t stand a chance, it was a seventy-foot drop or more.’

Oh, Davey. She stared at Nathaniel, her sea-green eyes huge in her white face. ‘Is it true what the foreman said? He didn’t suffer?’

‘I promise you.’

‘How do you know?’