She found it odd that men were forever telling women not to get involved in each other’s business – a neighbour’s business, another mother’s business – and yet at the drop of a hat they were prepared to fight a war for a faraway country.

‘She is very good to me. Don’t forget she delivered Mabel.’

‘How can I forget it, you constantly remind me.’ He picked up his newspaper. ‘Dr Nicholson let us down badly over that.’

‘He was out of town. I think he covers a large area now, across almost half of the county. So many of the younger doctors are in France.’

‘Well, I suppose we must be grateful to her. I wouldn’t want to be rude. I don’t doubt she’s respectable enough.’ It was said in a way that implied he doubted it very much.

‘She is,’ asserted Vivian firmly.

‘One son dead, the other disgraced. Poor woman. I bet she wishes he was dead too.’

‘Of course not.’

‘She must.’

Their conversations made her think of maids who were prone to tripping on the stairs and causing tea trays to clatter. Mistresses of such maids would look on despairingly, expecting the worst whenever the girl went about her duty. Their beady, disapproving eyes caused the maids to tremble more and led to additional accidents. Not that there was as much noise between Aubrey and her as there was between a clattering tray and a hard wooden floor, but it seemed as though the echoes of mistakes and trip-ups ran through their history. She had the sense that he was always waiting for her to mess up. With him she often felt stranded, obscure, snubbed. She missed Enid, but without discussing it, both women knew the friendship would be curtailed while Aubrey was at home. Could Vivian visit them at their cottage? Aubrey didn’t like her ‘gallivanting’, as he put it. How did he think she spent her time whilst he was away? Was he even the slightest bit interested? She didn’t imagine he thought for a moment that she might be bailing hay with Enid or watching Howard teach Timmy Durham how to fix a barn roof.

She knew Aubrey was a fine soldier. The most alluring definition of the era. She knew it in her head but not in her heart or between her legs. He’d fast gathered experience, certainly compared to some who were wet behind the ears. By all accounts he was courageous, fair, clear-thinking in the field. A damn good soldier. It should mean more. It should mean everything. It did to every other woman. It meant nothing to her.

She had to give it up. What was the use? They didn’t and never would understand one another. Vivian picked up Mabel. She would leave him to his newspaper. She knew he must be reading the casualty list; everyone did, and she supposed soldiers must find it more compelling than most.

‘Oh dear, Charles Rushmore is listed here. And Nathaniel Thorpe. Both of the Forty-Eighth Division. Battle of Pozières Ridge. Yes, I know of it. On the Albert–Bapaume road. They were acquaintances of yours, weren’t they?’