Kerensa had not been married to Oliver for long, their relationship had been strained and at the time she had thought it best to keep quiet. She had known Oliver well enough to realise that his honour would have made him want to have some kind of relationship with his half-brother and to provide comfortably for his family. Kerensa had seen Samuel for a stubborn man who meant what he said and there would have been all kinds of troubles and she had not wanted to shoulder the responsibility for that then.

What would Bartholomew think of her keeping the secret? What would he think of his father making them live their lives in poverty when they might have been well off? His reaction wouldn’t be the same as Samuel’s. Bartholomew desired to be rich, he admired and respected Oliver and probably wouldn’t be too proud to accept financial help from him. He would have clashed with his father’s views.

Kerensa’s worst fear was how Oliver would react if he ever found out the truth and that she had kept it from him for several years. Only she, and Jenifer knew now, and the Reverend Ivey, whom Jenifer had told to ease Kerensa’s burden of keeping the secret alone. It was a secret that Kerensa wished she did not know, but one she had been told in order to put right her suspicion that Bartholomew had been fathered and deserted by Oliver.

She had been silent in her thoughts too long. Her eyes returned to Bartholomew’s fingers. ‘What have you got there?’

He passed it to her, a small piece of wood with a straight line of white marking on it. ‘I found it down there on the shoreline. ’Tis a little piece of the Lowenek. See,’ he pointed, ‘there’s part of the letter “K”. Mother taught me how to read,’ he explained.

Kerensa tried to hand it back but he closed her fingers over the fragment of the ill-fated lugger. ‘You keep it if you like, it has too many painful memories for me. If my father hadn’t wanted to play the hero he would still be alive and my mother would not be a grieving widow.’

‘I’m sorry for you,’ said Kerensa, offering no pat remarks. She wrapped the piece of driftwood in a handkerchief and burrowed it into a deep pocket of her dress. ‘What would you like to do if given the chance one day? Go to sea to a foreign port? Perhaps even become the captain of a large ship?’