The sun was slanting down now on the old man’s giant straw hat. He was out there in the north field with the scythe across one shoulder, going about his quiet survey of the land, unhurried. As he approached the fringe of grass that spilled into the yard, he crouched to dig his hands into the soil again, holding the dry earth up to his nose as if to breathe in its bouquet, then tossing it aside. The more that Arthur watched him, the more relieved he felt. Not just because he’d found someone who knew what he was doing with his land, at last, but because its problems were no longer his to bear alone. There was even an uplifting tune the old man hummed as he strolled back towards the house – a repetitious melody like something from a hurdy-gurdy – and it reminded Arthur of those perfect afternoons he’d spent with Flo on Southport pier when they’d been courting.

He didn’t get up from his seat on the back porch, but let Hollis approach him, humming, until he came to rest at the foot of the steps, leaning on the pilaster. He couldn’t see the old man’s eyes beneath the brim of his enormous hat, and couldn’t gauge much from the straightness of his mouth as he went on with his hurdy-gurdy tune.

‘Well, come on, what’s the verdict?’ Arthur asked. ‘Do I have to torch the place, or what?’

Hollis lifted a tobacco pouch from his back pocket. ‘It’s not half as bad as I expected. Not the best, but we can save it.’

‘Are you sure?’

The old man pursed his lips. ‘Yup, we can bring this back to life in no time.’ He was curling a cigarette paper now in his dry-looking fingers, stuffing it with pinches of Old Holborn. ‘Your soil’s in fairly decent nick, considering. You’ve got a clay loam, but it’s not too heavy – we can spread some sand to lighten it, plough in some manure if need be. Main thing is, it’s nice and black – you’ve got no drainage problems I can see.’ He licked the paper’s edge and sealed it with his thumb. ‘Wouldn’t mind a glass of water, if you’d be so kind.’

Arthur stepped inside to fetch it. When he came back out, the old man was smoking peacefully, sitting on the top step with his hat off. ‘Here.’

‘Thank you.’ Hollis gulped down the entire glass in one. ‘Dry mouth all the time, these days. I think there’s something wrong with me.’

‘Maybe you should knock those on the head.’ Arthur gestured at his rollie. ‘I gave them up a while ago. Wasn’t easy, but I got my breath back.’

‘No chance. Got me through a lot, these things.’

‘You must’ve seen a bit of action in your time.’

‘I have indeed.’ The old man picked a fleck of loose tobacco off his tongue. ‘Langemark, for all the good it did me. Where’d they ship you off to?’