Ed didn’t stay long at Willard’s house. He was feeling too anxious and unsettled to sit down and have a drink with the boys. What’s more, he hadn’t yet heard from Season and Sally, and he wanted to go back to the farmhouse and wait for them to call. He finished his beer, said good night to Willard and Dyson, and walked back along the winding track that led to the main farmyard.

His mother was standing on the front verandah in a long white evening-dress with a high collar and batwing sleeves. She was holding on to the rail, and looking up at the full Kansas moon.

‘Hello, Mother,’ he said, as he mounted the steps.

She turned around, and nodded. ‘Nearly harvest time,’ she said. ‘Or it should have been, at least.’

‘I heard some news from Washington today,’ Ed told her. ‘It seems like we may be getting some extra compensation, on top of our usual crop insurance. We may be able to keep the farm going after all.’

‘Well, that is good news,’ said his mother. ‘I was just thinking how sad it would be to see South Burlington die.’ He stood beside her, a few feet away. Her diamond necklace was sparkling in the moonlight, and he could smell her perfume, mingled with the wind-borne sourness of decaying wheat.

‘Have you heard from Season?’ he asked her.

She shook her head.

‘Well, I’m going upstairs to have a bath and dress for dinner. Do you want a drink before I go?’

‘No, thank you,’ said his mother. Then, hesitantly, ‘Edward?’

‘Yes, Mother?’

‘You’re better without her, you know. South Burlington is better without her.’

Ed stared at her for a long time. Then he said, ‘I love her. Mother. If I didn’t think it would make matters worse. I’d quite happily sell this farm tomorrow, and everything on it, and go join her in California.’

‘I’m glad your father can’t hear you say that.’

‘Daddy’s dead. Mother. Don’t keep waving his shroud at me. Now, if you’ll pardon me for fifteen minutes, I could use a shave and a hot bath.’

Ursula Hardesty turned away, and struck a deliberately hurt and melodramatic pose by the verandah rail. Ed paused for a moment, wondering if he ought to say he was sorry, but then he opened the screen door and went inside. This was his house now, his farm, his marriage. Whatever charades his mother wanted to play under the harvest moon, well, let her do it. Charades were a luxury that few people were going to be able to afford for very much longer.

Nine