His face came close to hers. His lips brushed hers. She pulled away.

‘I’m sorry. So sorry. I – I . . .’ Jerome said.

‘Don’t be. I wanted you to kiss me. Oh, Jerome, this is all so sudden. Look, I am going away, for about a month.’

‘When? Where?’

‘To France, to stay with Flors, the friend I told you about. I start my journey on Monday. Let me think this through while I am away, and clear my head. I need that time, Jerome, and so do you. You knew nothing of how I have been living, or of me having a child. We have to let these things lie within us for a while and see if we can surmount any problems they may impose on us. And that men’s world you remember me being in – well, I want to return to it. I need to save my father’s pride and joy.’

‘The mill?’

‘Yes, the mill. I’ve bought a house on Darwen road. I’m moving back. We will be near to each other and can take things one step at a time.’

‘But that’s wonderful news. And I will help you in your quest to rebuild the mill to its former glory. Not that I know anything about cotton mills, even though I have grown up breathing in their smoke. But I can learn, and maybe that smoke has filtered into me a love of them. Who knows?’

‘Oh, Jerome, you’re so funny.’

‘I’ll drive you.’

‘What?’

‘I’ll drive you to France. I won’t bother you, once you are there. I’ll go off and travel. I want to see Spain, and I may go over to Africa, as my granny and granddad did. Yes, it all sounds so wonderful. Please say yes, Mags.’

She went into a fit of giggles. Jerome was like a breath of fresh air. He saw no obstacles to him just upping sticks and going. ‘What about your farmers, and your new house?’ Mags asked.

‘Oh, they don’t need me – well, not yet. Though I am going to set up a union for them; and farmers’ meetings where they can discuss things that are worrying them; and form a co-op for buying their supplies. But all of that can wait. Besides, the house needs work. The furniture is awful. Whatever possessed you to buy such stuff?’

All of this sounded so caring of the farm tenants that it made Mags feel guilty that she and her family had never given them a thought. Not really. There had been the Harvest Festival barn dance funded by her father, a real hoedown of an evening when the beer and cider flowed, but other than that, they’d paid more attention to the mill workers and their welfare.

‘I know what you mean. But that wasn’t me. I’m furnishing my house with all the lovely pieces my parents had. At least Harold had the good manners to put it all in store for me, when he stole the house.’