‘What’s happened while I’ve been away?’ she asked her mother, ignoring Jessie as she mimicked the words to Beth.

‘Now, let’s see … Your father’s sold some of the cows at market. Got a good price for them, too. Ned Wibberley – you know, the one up at Tuppers Farm? He bought them.’

‘What about Matthew, and Mark and Luke? Any news of them?’

Her mother shook her head. ‘We get letters, but they don’t say much, really.’

‘John’s going to join up after Christmas,’ Beth said.

‘But he’s only sixteen!’

Beth shrugged. ‘He’ll lie about his age like the rest of ’em, I s’pose.’

Grace turned to her mother. ‘You can’t let him, Mother. He’s too young.’

‘He’ll do what he pleases, I daresay. Just like his brothers.’

Grace thought of John, out playing in the yard with his younger brothers and sisters. He was just a kid. She couldn’t bear the thought of him going off to fight, maybe ending up like the men she looked after at the Nightingale, hollow-eyed shadows, incapable of laughter.

‘You’ve pinned that nappy too tight.’ Jessie’s critical voice dragged her out of her reverie.

‘Sorry.’ Grace unfastened the pin and redid it.

‘Now it’s too loose.’ Jessie tutted. ‘Here, let me do it.’ She came over and nudged Grace out of the way. ‘I would have thought you’d know all about this sort of thing, being a nurse.’

‘Yes, but she’s not a mother, is she?’ Beth said smugly.

‘Enough of that, you two. I reckon Gracie’s changed more nappies than you two put together, what with all my lot. Take no notice of them,’ her mother said to Grace, ‘they might seem thick as thieves but the only time they’re not bickering is when they’ve got you to pick on.’

Grace went over to the window, cleared a patch in the grimy glass and peered out. Her father and Noah were trudging back down from the top field.

‘What business has Mr Wells got with Father?’ she asked.

‘Well might you ask!’ Beth muttered, and she and Jessie both laughed.

‘Noah’s buying some of our land,’ her mother explained.

Grace looked at her in surprise. ‘Father always said he’d never sell an acre of Duffield land!’

‘Times are hard,’ Beth said. Then she turned to Jessie. ‘The way things are going, there won’t be anything left of the farm for your Matthew to inherit.’

‘At least he’ll get something,’ Jessie shot back. ‘Your Mark will be a farmhand for the rest of his life, working other people’s land.’

‘Unless Matthew doesn’t come home from the war?’

Jessie turned on her, knife in her hand. ‘Beth Duffield! You take that back this minute, you witch!’

The next minute they were at each other, slapping and tugging handfuls of hair. Grace’s mother ignored them.

‘Your father has also invited Noah to stay for Christmas dinner,’ she said to Grace. ‘It seems the Christian thing to do, since he’ll be on his own otherwise.’