‘The Stellions have both been very good to me – and to Uncle Tom – and we want that to continue. In fact, it is vital to our livelihood. If you took that bike, Gina, you can take it back tomorrow and I never want to see it again, all right?’

‘It was lent, honestly, Mum.’

‘Well, then, you can start on those taters and, Nell, you go and get washed and changed out of those mucky clothes and then we’ll get the tea on. And, Gina, if you’re back before us in future you can make a fresh brew for when we get home. You know what time that is.’

‘Yes, Mum.’

‘Yes, Mum. Honestly, Mum,’ sneered Ellen quietly, still angry that Gina had stolen her thunder. ‘You don’t know the meaning of the word.’

‘Shut up.’ Gina aimed a kick at the back of Ellen’s legs as she passed.

‘And have you been up to the farm to tell the Beveridges that you won’t be there?’ asked Dora.

‘No, Mum, not yet.’

‘Well, I suggest you get yourself up there sharpish, lass. It’s a shame you’re both leaving them so close together but it can’t be helped. They need to know, though.’

‘I will go.’

‘No time like the present. Nell will help me with the tea.’

Gina heaved herself reluctantly to her feet. She was just wondering whether to take the bicycle up to the farm when Philip burst in.

Dora’s smile of greeting slipped when she saw her husband’s anxious face. ‘Phil, what on earth’s happened?’

‘Bloomin’ sheep, of course. That’s what!’ He pushed the door shut roughly and padded over in his stocking feet. ‘Found three dead ewes and their lambs in the lower field just by the wall this morning. Been dealing with nowt but them and the whole sorry business all day.’

‘Oh, Phil, I’m sorry. It’s not foot and mouth, is it? Please say it’s not. Were they looking sickly before?’

‘No, it’s not that plague, though that’s the only good thing. And of course they didn’t look like they were ailing before,’ he snapped, ‘or I’d’ve moved them into the barn away from the others, wouldn’t I? Are you saying this is my fault? ’Cos I know damn well it isn’t.’

‘No, of course not. Sit down, Phil. Let me get you a cup of tea. Sounds bad.’

He sank onto a kitchen chair, looking tired and belligerent.

‘It is bad. Three ewes and their lambs! Albert, Ed and me have been looking all round but we haven’t a clue what’s caused it. It’s not foot and mouth but we’re worried it’s summat we haven’t heard of and that the entire flock will be dead by morning.’ He stood up, unable to settle, and walked about, wringing his hands.

‘Do the others look ill?’