‘Who d’you think you’re talking to?’ he said.

She flapped her hand against her breastbone. ‘What? Did I speak out of turn?’

‘Leave it, Joy,’ her brother said. ‘Don’t start.’

He told her straight: ‘It’s time you did more listening and less bleating. Both of you.’

‘Charlie’s not done anything. Get off his case.’

‘The both of you could learn a thing or two, believe me.’

‘Not from you, Geoff Hollis,’ she said. ‘You’re no better than we are, just older by a hundred years – and you’ve been drunk for most of those.’ She skipped down from the corn drill, wiped her nose upon her wrist. ‘You’d best watch how you order me about, unless you want the Mayhoods knowing how you treat us. Anyone’d think you were snow white, but we’ve all seen the filth that washes off you on Sundays – takes a pile of Ajax just to clean you off our tub, you dirty sod.’

It’d been a while since he’d known brass like hers. He might’ve handled himself better, but she’d made him so irate. He kicked a lump of earth at her and specks of it went in her eye. ‘You’ll mind your manners now,’ he said, and she came rushing at him. Charlie tried to collar her, but couldn’t hold her, saying, ‘Leave it, Joy. Just leave it.’ Then there was a mighty whistle from behind them, stopping Tweedledum cold in her tracks. It was Florence, running over, jumping furrows on the way. ‘What’s going on here, Mr Hollis?’ she said, really scolding him this time. ‘Did I just see you kicking dirt?’

‘An accident. I never meant for it to go that far.’ He couldn’t bear to look at her, so watched the starlings for a moment while he caught his breath.

‘What’s all this about?’ she said.

‘A little disagreement over what needs doing. But we’re past it now, don’t worry.’

‘Is that right?’ she said, and took Joyce by the arm. ‘Is that right, Joy?’

‘She didn’t understand, that’s all,’ said Charlie meekly.

‘Just a quarrel, miss,’ was Tweedledum’s reply. ‘It’s nothing really.’

‘I suppose I might’ve got myself a bit too hot under the collar,’ he put in, to soften out the situation. He was suddenly aware of his own stench.

‘Well, that had better be the end of it. Come on – shake hands and calm yourselves, before my husband sees you. It’ll break his heart to know you’re at each other’s throats like this.’

The rightful thing to do was offer up his hand and say, ‘That’s that.’

‘That’s that,’ Joyce said.

‘So can we get this tractor in the yard and rinse it off now?’

‘Fine by me.’

‘No trouble, Mr Hollis,’ Charlie said, and climbed up quick to start the motor.

There wasn’t any bother after that, but still: he’d had a glimpse of his own future and he didn’t care much for the view. By the close of day, above the normal aches and pains that plagued him, he could feel a sourness in his belly. A dismal mood came over him as he was leaving Leventree, and the drizzle soaked his woollens as he walked. Perhaps he wouldn’t stick it out as long as he’d first thought. He was prepared to wait until the seed had taken and the rye was coming through – no more than that. He wouldn’t stay somewhere that gave him headaches every time there was a field that needed ploughing.