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jerked downhill, in and out of the ruts made by previous carts. Either side there were fields in which sheep grazed, fields that she and her family would de-thistle if required. Froggett always gave them first refusal because they worked so hard. It all helped the house fund. She turned. The slag heaps loomed behind them. What had been here before the pit and the village? Fields like this. Old Saul huffed, the cartwheel slid out of the rut again. She held the side of the seat, hesitated, then murmured, ‘Forgive me.’
    â€˜Always,’ he whispered.
    The beck was only ten minutes further. At the end of the lane, by the gorse bushes, he pulled up and jumped down, tying Old Saul to the fence. Evie started to clamber from her side but his voice was sharp. ‘No, wait.’ She did. He came and lifted her, slinging her over his shoulder. ‘Hey,’ she shouted.
    â€˜Can’t have you ankle-deep in mud for the gentry, can we?’ He reached into the cart and took the wicker basket with the bait tins, and the blanket from the front seat. He carried her as easily as he would have carried a sack of coal and just as inelegantly. She started to laugh and he joined her, and it was almost like it had always been. It was only when he’d thrown the blanket down on the bank and poked it flat with his boot that he let her down. For a moment they looked at one another. ‘I’d never hurt you deliberately, bonny lad,’ she said.
    â€˜Nor I you. I will never drink like that again. I will never treat anyone as I treated you.’ Somewhere he’d washed. Somewhere he’d had some sleep but not a lot, probably at Martin’s house. She said, ‘You’ll drink again.’
    He grinned. ‘I won’t treat anyone like that.’
    â€˜I know you won’t. We hurt you. It’s over.’
    They sat side by side, his arm around her shoulder. The beck was clear and clean and trickled over the dam they had built years ago, so it was deep enough to swim. Across on the other bank willows draped their fronds into water and sparrows sang. She said, ‘Miss Manton said that she could get me into Easterleigh Hall and her old cook would teach me all she knew. I have to go there because I have promised to protect Mrs Moore, whose hands are sore with the rheumatics, for as long as possible in return for Miss Manton’s goodness. I want to go there too because I need to see you all as often as I can. I have to go there because I would have to wait for much longer to get a post like this without Miss Manton’s influence. I need to go because I want you all out of the pit, Jack. You know I want us to get a hotel. I want us to be safe. I can do it. I can cook . . .’
    Jack put his hand over her mouth. ‘Enough. Enough.’ He was laughing. Then he became more serious than she had ever known him. ‘I was wrong. It’s your life. I hate you working for the Bramptons but you know I don’t hate
you
. I was just angry and I’ve had my punishment from Mam.’ He rubbed his ear. ‘By, she’d win any damn fist fight with one hand tied behind her back. The thing is, Evie, I want to stay in the pit. It’s what I am, a pitman. My marras are pitmen. I belong. It’s my family as much as you are.’
    He removed his hand from her mouth and she tried to interrupt but he drove on. ‘What’s more, it’s my duty. Thanks to Mam and Da and Jeb I can talk the talk when I need to, to try and make sure the men have the best that they deserve and that the pit is as safe as it can be, and that we all earn what we should. There’s so much to do and I can’t, don’t, want to walk away from that but neither do I want Timmie in it, so you’re right. We have to get the house.’
    He was picking at the blanket. The sparrows flew above the willows. The sky was blue and clouds skidded along in the breeze. She wanted to speak but knew he had