She did care.

Not because she’d be chastised and condemned as a loose woman, an adulterous whore. She didn’t mind if Aubrey divorced her and she had to endure a scandal, if her family disowned her and she was left penniless, if society was disgusted with her and she had to exist friendless. He was worth all that.

‘They’d never let me have Mabel.’ There it was, said out loud. The reason she would never allow their affair to be discovered, the reason she would never divorce Aubrey.

Howard blanched; he looked startled. Had he really not considered it? Determined, he argued, ‘We could run away, take her with us and disappear.’

‘No, we couldn’t. Where would we go? How would we live? You are an essential worker under the protection of Aubrey Owens. I am his wife.’ She felt reduced to little more than a chattel. She’d always known this was the case. She was female, born to be passed from parent to husband, no private wealth or means to earn an independent income. She did not have the right to vote, she didn’t have any entitlements at all. She was just property. ‘He’d have us tracked down by lawyers and the police. They’d have you banged up in prison again faster than you could say white feather. Prison at best; maybe this time they would go ahead and shoot you. They’d take Mabel from me and I’d never be allowed to see her again. Women are put in mental asylums for less. There isn’t a judge in the land who would condone a woman having an affair with a conchie and award her custody of a child. Running away is an impossible idea.’

Howard fell silent. His face was stony. She was glad he didn’t offer ridiculous and unrealistic platitudes but instead simply stated what was most true. ‘Not seeing you is impossible too.’

‘Yes. Yes.’ Her lips found his and they hungrily kissed one another to console and to reassure.

‘We will be careful, Vivian, that’s all. We can carry on as we are. I’ll work hard on the farm, better than ever. We can meet secretly. No one need know. We can be careful.’

She wanted to believe him. ‘For how long?’

‘Until the war is over. When Aubrey comes back, you can ask for a divorce.’

She knew it would never happen. Aubrey would never allow it. He didn’t love her, she was certain of that. She didn’t think he loved Mabel much either – there hadn’t been time for it – but he’d never let them go. He wouldn’t be able to bear the humiliation. A nouveau riche family such as his could not allow that to happen. The Owens name would be forever ruined. He’d rather live with her, incessantly miserable, than publicly admit defeat.

There was only one way she could be free. If something . . . well . . . after all, the fact was, Aubrey was out there. The thought was disgusting. Vile. She felt sick at herself for having had it. She wanted to switch off her mind, the way one might switch off the motor of an engine. She tried to think of something else. The flowers in the vase on the dresser. Pink roses. Where had they got them from? Who still grew flowers? She had to backtrack. Just in case. Just in case there was a God who could read her every thought, even now. Even when there was a war going on and men were clawing for His attention, if God was listening to her, He could never forgive her. Not in all his magnificence, compassion or tolerance. The thing that had swept through her mind – the only solution to their problem – was insufferable, unforgivable. It would have been better that she die than think that about a soldier, an officer, who was fighting for King and country.