Clem pointed to the patches of wild flowers growing among some of the more formal flowers. ‘They must be Kerensa’s touch. I couldn’t imagine her living without her wild flowers.’

‘You are correct, Trenchard.’ Oliver was stung by the familiarity with which Clem spoke of Kerensa. He realised that next to himself and perhaps Alice, Clem knew more about her than anybody. What a fool he had been to risk losing her to him. He vowed he would never run such a risk again.

Clem was watching his face, trying to read his mind. ‘So, she’s taken you back, has she?’

‘That’s none of your damned business!’ Oliver snarled.

‘I can always make it my business,’ Clem threatened coolly.

‘Don’t you be too sure of that, Trenchard,’ Oliver hurled back.

‘She’s a fool to love you, Pengarron. You don’t deserve her. I hate you for what you put her through all these months.’

‘Again, it’s none of your damned business, Trenchard, but I’ll tell you this, Kerensa will always love me.’

‘Aye, I know, although only God knows why.’

Oliver stooped to tap out his pipe on the soil. ‘You’ll always hate me, won’t you?’

‘To my grave.’

Oliver looked nonchalantly at his pipe as he cupped the warm bowl in the palm of his hand. ‘And for that I don’t give a tinker’s cuss either.’

Clem nodded and puffed on the air. ‘I’d be surprised if you did.’

The men stared at each other again. Challenge lay heavy in the air, only a breath away from physical confrontation.

Then Clem asked evenly, ‘How is the baby keeping?’

No man asked after a baby unless it meant something to him. Oliver didn’t like the question but in the circumstances he could not begrudge an answer.

‘My daughter is very well,’ he said, in a tone that forbade further questions.

They fell into an uneasy silence. It dawned on Oliver that it was Clem who had suggested Kelynen’s name. Oliver hated the very thought of it and resolved he would never call his daughter by that name.

Olivia came running up, smiling. She stopped between them and looked up, puzzled at the grim faces. She turned her pretty auburn head from man to man, her face dropping. Oliver swept her possessively up in his arms and kissed her. She kissed him back and he was surprised when she addressed Clem.

‘Have you brought Jessica to play, Clem?’

‘No, not this time, Olivia,’ Clem said, looking at Oliver, whom he was sure had not been told yet of the arrangement their wives had made about their children mixing and playing together.

‘This time?’ Oliver asked sharply.