Glenys cursed beneath her breath. She had feared that taking shelter in the abandoned cottage might lead to unpleasant rumours, but what choice had they had? And now she remembered the boot prints they had seen in the fresh snow when daylight came and they left their refuge. She got slowly to her feet. Was this why Sam had asked her to marry him? Was this the kind of ‘talk’ he had wanted to spare her? She wondered whether he could have heard this particular rumour, but then she remembered that Pete had always been in awe of Taid, and guessed that the shepherd had held his tongue, if only because he must have known that if it came to Taid’s ears Taid would undoubtedly sack him and throw him out of the farm cottage.

Outside, it was growing dark, and if she did not go in soon someone might come and search for her and that someone might be Sam. The thought galvanised her into action. She dusted down the skirt of her pink gingham dress, tucked her fair curls behind her ears, cast one glance around the tack room to make sure there was no sign of her recent presence, and set off across the farmyard.

As she had guessed, the family was at supper. One of Nain’s pasties sat forlornly on a crumb-spattered plate in the centre of the table, alongside two large platters of sandwiches. Everyone but Sam looked up and smiled as she entered the room; Sam kept his eyes studiously lowered to his plate. Jimmy and Mo said accusingly, in chorus: ‘You’re late!’ but though Taid murmured a greeting, his wife looked at her long and hard.

‘Are you all right, my dear? I saw that dreadful Phoebe Smith cross the yard a while back. She’s a nasty piece of work, always out to do mischief. I wondered if you’d fallen foul of her.’

Glenys assured her, airily, that she would never take any notice of anything Phoebe said since the woman lied as she breathed, but inside she was thinking trust Nain to pick up on one’s emotions! None of the others have noticed that I’m not feeling quite myself.

Jimmy, chewing busily, jerked a thumb at the empty chair beside his own. ‘We’ve saved you a pasty, and the sandwiches on the blue plate is cheese and pickle, and the ones on the plate with the pattern of green leaves is egg and lettuce,’ he said thickly. ‘There’s tea, cider or homemade lemonade . . .’ His face clouded. ‘It ain’t fair, Auntie Glenys. Nain won’t let me have cider but you can have it, even though you’re a woman.’

Glenys smiled at him and hesitated, not knowing whether to take the offered seat, but Sam made up her mind for her. He pushed his own chair back with a loud squeal and got to his feet. ‘I’m going out to put the milk into the churns,’ he said gruffly. ‘If you’ve finished, Jimmy, you can come and give me a hand.’