“He’ll be back soon, you know,” said Sybil. “Even if it’s at the very last minute.”

Out in the hall, a big grandfather clock had just stopped chiming half past five.

“I’m sure he will,” said Bunty. They were bathing Young Sam.

“He’s never late,” Sybil went on. “He says if you’re late for a good reason you’ll be late for a bad one. And it’s only half past five, anyway.”

“Plenty of time,” Bunty agreed.

“Fred and Nobby did take the horses up to the valley, didn’t they?” said Sybil.

“Yes, Sybil. You watched them go,” said Bunty. She looked over Sybil’s head to the gaunt figure of her husband, who was standing in the hall doorway. He shrugged hopelessly.

“Only the other day, he was running up the stairs as the clocks were striking six,” Sybil said, calmly soaping Young Sam with a sponge shaped like a teddy bear. “The very last second. You wait and see.”