‘You carry on as you are, my dear. Jack has no family and no idea who he really is. I dare say he truly appreciates the attention you give him.’

‘Oh, I intend to, Oliver doesn’t get his own way in everything. But there are other children that I’m concerned about, Reverend. The younger Drannocks, Charles, Jack and little Cordelia. They are showing signs of being neglected. Cordelia is eight years old, a year older than Olivia but much smaller. She’s no bigger than Jessica Trenchard and she’s only four. I send Ruth and Esther over twice a week to cook and clean the cottage and Mrs King is very good the rest of the time. But it’s not the same thing as having a mother’s care and love. All Jenifer does is sit in Samuel’s seat behind the door. Why, I swear she hasn’t taken a step out in the fresh air for over a month.’

‘Yes, I know. It’s a terrible tragedy for any family when the breadwinner dies, Kerensa. I’ll try to have a word with Bartholomew but when he’s not working out at sea he’s rarely to be found in the village. It’s difficult to know what to do about the Drannocks.’

‘It seems worse when I think of how different things would be if it wasn’t for Samuel’s pride,’ Kerensa lamented.

Polly brought the tea in and they spent a comfortable hour or two chatting. The rain had stopped by the time the Reverend got up to leave. As he made his way to his pony he was pulled roughly on the coat tails by a shuffling, grunting Beatrice. ‘’Er’s in a bad way, Rev’run’, the young missus.’

‘Yes, Beatrice, I can see that only too clearly, she is in very low spirits,’ he returned, smoothing out his coat tails and imagining Mrs Tregonning’s chagrin if she knew that Beatrice had touched them with her dirty fat hands.

‘’E did never ’ad spoken to the little maid like the way ’e did. I over’eard un, you see, ’eard all that was said between ’em. ’Twas ruddy awful. Went tell nobody, mind.’

‘I’m pleased to hear that, Beatrice. Keep an eye on her, will you? Send word to me if you think she needs me.’

‘Aye, I’ll do that all right.’

The Reverend Ivey hastened on his way to escape the crone’s terrible smells.

‘Tell ’ee one thing an’ that edn’t two, Rev’run’,’ Beatrice said to his back and brought him spinning round. ‘Ef ’e don’t come round soon an’ put things frights, ’e may ’ave reason to be more sorry then ’e thinks at the end of it!’

Chapter 16