Rosie stared downheartedly at the ground. Why couldn’t she just be left alone? If she wanted to be quiet and even miserable, didn’t she have the right to be, for goodness sake? She would say nothing to Alice. She’d told her often to mind her own business but Alice only said she was trying to help, that what was a family for if not to rally round when one of its members needed help? Rosie’s pleas that she didn’t want or need any help fell on deaf ears.

Mostly Rosie’s thoughts were filled with daydreams and memories of her childhood. They brought her no pain or misery. But just sometimes she would allow herself to think of that afternoon spent alone with one special man in a forest, of the events shared with him. She had not seen him since the awful clash on the Trembaths’ wedding day. A few weeks ago he had mysteriously gone away but it hadn’t lessened the bitter-sweet memories she had of him. Alice reckoned she needed a man ‘to cheer her’. What she meant was a husband. But what man would do after a young woman had had an encounter with Sir Oliver Pengarron?

Ricketty Jim was full of apologies for keeping Philip and David talking, or rather listening to him. ‘I’m awful sorry, Rosie, it seems I like the sound of my own voice too much and you’ve had a needless long, wet, muddy walk.’

‘Well, it’s used up some of this little miss’s energy,’ Rosie said, eyeing her recalcitrant niece.

Jessica had straightaway made herself at home under the awning that was Ricketty Jim’s home, squeezing in between her brothers. ‘Out of there, young lady,’ Rosie ordered, bending down to look in, ‘and you two boys can come out as well.’

‘Jim was telling us some wonderful stories,’ David said enthusiastically, ‘about kings called pharaohs and chieftains and sheiks.’

‘You can tell me all about them on the way back, David,’ Rosie said, trying not to sound impatient. The longer it took her to get the children back home, the longer it would be before she finished her own jobs.

‘Jim said the Pengarron boys came over to speak to him the other day,’ Philip said, scowling as he appeared in the open. ‘Jim said that Master Luke was rude to him. I said I wasn’t surprised, I hate him! He’s nothing but a bighead, thinks he’s so wonderful!’

‘Now mind what you say about other folk, young Philip,’ Ricketty Jim cautioned.

‘Well, ’tis what you said!’ Philip said heatedly.

‘I only said he was rather rude to me. He hasn’t got your good manners,’ the rover replied soothingly, ‘and there’s no need to copy him.’