He was worn out, and afraid, she could feel it, but it was unspoken. He did not look at her, knowing that she knew. He was only three years older than Evelyne.

‘Will, Will, supper’s on the table now, come on.’

Evelyne set down the steaming bowls of stew, the big chunks of fresh bread. The two boys ate hungrily, washing the food down with gulps of scalding tea. There was a jug of ale, too, and that went down fast, but the dust stayed deep in their lungs. They were still eating when there was a rap on the back door.

‘I were just passin’ an’ wondered how yer Mike got along on his first day?’

Old Peg-Leg Thomas hobbled in, grinning a toothless smile, his hand already out for a mug of tea. He gasped and heaved for breath, but he rolled a cigarette as soon as he had sunk into the most comfortable fireside chair.

‘Who’s yer butty-mum?’

Mike wiped his mouth and told him it was Danny Williams.

‘Ahhh, now there’s a good butty-mum … yer know, if yer get allocated a butty that don’t know the ropes then yer can spend maybe two years learning what should’ve been taught yer in the first week, an’ there’s the truth. Good butty, Danny Williams, knows what’s what, you got a good lad ter teach yer … is there another drop of tea fer me?’

Evelyne wiped her plate with some bread, washed it, and refilled it from the stewpan. She poured a fresh mug of tea and loaded a small tin tray.

Her mother, Mary, was lying in the big double bed. Hanging from the ceiling and all around the room were sheets drying and the men’s work clothes washed for the following day. The bedroom was above the kitchen, so the big fire kept the room hot and stuffy. Mary was dozing, her thick black hair loose, her cheeks flushed, and Evelyne saw she was sweating. Softly, she put the tray down, and went to the washstand, rinsed a cloth and crept quietly to Mary’s side. Evelyne mopped her mother’s brow as gently as she could, but Mary stirred, opened her eyes and smiled. Evelyne helped her to sit up.