‘He’s a good lad, our Ernie,’ his mother agreed readily when Esther praised Ernie’s kindly actions. ‘Ah dun’t know what Ah’d do wi’out him sometimes. He keeps an eye on the younger ones. Anyway, enough about my brood. How are you feeling, lass? Ya can’t have long to go now. Want me to tek a look at ya some time?’

‘I’m hoping I can hang on till harvest’s safely in.’

Mrs Harris laughed. ‘Only if young ’un decides to let ya, lass. They have a will o’ their own. They’ll come when they’m ready and there’s nowt ya can do about it.’

‘It’s been so wet this year – it’s going to be a difficult one. Some of the fields are flooded.’ Esther wrinkled her forehead worriedly. ‘I’m sure we’re going to lose some of the crops.’

‘Aye, Ah’ve seen it happen here afore. Some years back Sam had to take his oats over to one of Tom Willoughby’s fields – one of them way over yonder’ – the older woman waved her hand westward – ‘to spread it all out to dry afore we could stack it.’ She glanced again at Esther and said as if warning Esther not to be too hopeful, ‘Late we was, that year, gettin’ it all in.’

Esther’s child decided to wait, however, and when the last sheaf was stacked after a very difficult harvest, Esther heaved a great sigh of relief.

Now nothing could spoil the birth of her child.

It was another two weeks, well beyond the time that Mrs Harris had predicted, before Esther felt the tell-tale pain low down in her groin. She carried on milking Clover, murmuring soothingly to the cow as she always did. The pain subsided and died, and Esther pulled steadily on the beast’s udders, never slowing, never losing her easy rhythm. She stood up slowly and eased her back. Then she covered the two pails of milk with the wooden lids and picked them up.

She had begun to walk across the yard towards the house, when a second pain struck suddenly and with such intensity that she gasped aloud and doubled over, the bottom rims of the pails catching on the floor and tippling forwards. She gave a cry and tried to pull them upright, but the lids toppled forwards and the milk gushed out on to the yard.

‘Oh, no!’ Esther cried aloud. The pain was receding now, leaving her vexed and angry with herself for spilling the milk. Half the contents of each bucket was lost and, pursing her mouth, she picked up the two pails and went quickly into the house. If they were to keep up the supply to their regular customers, her own household would have to go short for a day or so. She stroked her swollen belly and glanced down at it.