‘The only person I care about being glad that I’m back is Gwen.’

‘But she doesn’t care, does she, Jack? What are you going to do? Wait forever for her to change her mind?’ Nora’s coy mask falls away. Being rebuffed has rankled her and now her temper simmers; it mars her beauty more than she will ever know.

‘Perhaps you’re too young, too impatient to realise this, Nora, but some things are worth waiting for.’

‘She doesn’t want you back, Jack. You might be waiting forever.’

‘I’ll take my chances.’

‘I can’t change your mind?’

He stifles a laugh and shakes his head. ‘No. I’m flattered, like. But no.’

‘You’re a fool, Jack Ellison.’

‘Aye, maybe. You’re not the first to say so. I suspect you won’t be the last.’

She smiles, convinced she can change his mind, but when he turns back to the window, lifting the edge of the curtain to admire the beauty of the moon, her confidence wavers and her smile gradually fades. He pays her no heed as she leaves.

She remains behind the closed door, listening, waiting, clearly expecting him to come after her, to plead for her return, but then the camp bed creaks and her rejection is complete. Her displeasure evident, she turns to leave and immediately draws in a terrified breath.

Gwen emerges from the shadows, spectral in her long cotton nightdress.

‘God, you gave me a fright,’ Nora hisses.

‘Pack your bags. I want you gone in the morning.’

Gwen doesn’t wait for her response. She turns on her heel and strides through the stable door back to the house, Jack’s words ringing in her ears.

Nora challenges her directive the following morning. She gets up as usual to help with the milking, but Gwen is already in the kitchen waiting for her.

‘You can’t be serious?’ Nora protests.

‘I’ve turned a blind eye to your loose behaviour throughout the war, Nora. But I can’t turn a blind eye to what happened last night.’

‘Nothing happened last night.’

‘No thanks to you.’

‘If you’re so concerned about your husband being tempted, maybe you should look at how you treat him.’

‘Get out.’

Nora plants her palms on the table. ‘What is it, Gwen? You don’t want him, but you don’t want anyone else to have him either?’

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Don’t I?’ the Land Girl snorts as she straightens up. ‘You’re the coldest fish I’ve ever encountered.’

‘Well, that’s better than being a whore like you.’

Nora barks with laughter. ‘A whore? That’s how you see me, is it? When it’s convenient to do so? Not when you need the potatoes lifting, or the tractor driving or the harvest bringing in, or your precious son being looked after.’