Esther went over to her. She put her arm about the older woman’s plump shoulders. ‘Come and have a cup o’ tea with me, Ma.’

It took some considerable urging to make Ma move, but at last she allowed Esther to lead her into the farmhouse.

On the Sunday following Ernie’s departure, Esther insisted that they should attend church. As they might have expected, the service revolved round the war. The hymns the rector had chosen were full of patriotic fervour and self-sacrifice, and the prayers appealed for God’s help on the side of righteousness and the fight for freedom from oppressors. Stubbornly, Esther refused to mouth the words she could not believe in. However, when the prayers took on a more personal note, and the vicar prayed for all those from this parish who had volunteered, Esther was glad to join in. Fervently she added her own prayers, closing her eyes and pressing her hands together.

As she stood up at the end of the service and looked about the church, she was saddened to see, already, so many empty spaces. The squire and his lady now had only their younger son in attendance, and yet it was their absent elder son who was the main topic of interest. As Squire Marshall passed down the aisle he was stopped at every pew to be grasped by the hand and congratulated.

‘A fine boy, Squire.’

‘You must be so proud.’

‘Good luck to your boy, sir.’

A few pews in front of where Esther, Matthew and Kate were sitting, and on the opposite side, the Willoughbys waited their turn to greet the squire.

‘My best wishes to your boy, sir,’ Tom Willoughby’s voice boomed around the church. ‘He does our little community proud and no mistake.’

The squire shook the man’s outstretched hand. ‘Thank you, Willoughby, thank you.’ He nodded towards Martha Willoughby and her sister, Flo Jenkins.

Martha’s shrill voice echoed down the church. ‘There’s some here as might take a lesson from your boy, Squire.’ Her glanced swivelled towards Esther and flickered to envelop Matthew. The gathering still in the church had all fallen silent to listen to the exchange. It was as if the congregation was holding its breath.

‘And you, ma’am,’ Martha was addressing Mrs Marshall. ‘What a fine example you have set all women. So brave, so patriotic, ma’am.’

Flo was leaning forward over her sister’s shoulder. ‘There’s some – far be it from me to name names – but there’s some who’d keep their men at home, making out they can’t be spared from the work on the land.’

Martha nodded vigorous agreement. ‘Aye, and the men are all too willing to stay at home. Slackers, they are, ma’am, and worse!’

Flo pursed her already thin lips to a slit. ‘Cowards, Squire, that’s what we’d call them. Cowards!’