‘I’d best be off then.’ He tried to smile, but it did not reach his eyes. ‘I – I don’t want ’em to think I’ve changed me mind.’

‘Have you seen Kate?’

He nodded. ‘Aye.’ He glanced away and said gruffly, ‘Look after her – and ya’sen.’

‘Do you want me to come into town with you?’ she asked softly.

He shook his head. ‘No – no, thanks.’

‘You’ll write, won’t you?’

He shifted his feet. ‘I’m not much for writing, Esther. But I’ll try to let you know where I am and, well, if I’m all right – if ya want.’

‘Of course I want.’ She was about to add ‘don’t be stupid’, but for once she bit back the sharp retort in time.

There was an awkwardness between them as if neither knew what to say and yet didn’t want the final moment to come.

He bent and picked up the pails of milk. ‘I’ll carry these in for you.’

Surprised, she merely nodded. She followed him into the house but stood in the scullery whilst he took the milk through to the pantry. She leant against the wall at the side of the window, her hands still cradling the watch. He came back and stood before her.

‘I’ll be off, then.’

She nodded. ‘Take care of yourself, Matthew.’

He nodded and stepped out over the threshold. Esther stood by the window near the back door watching Matthew walk across the yard and out of the gate. She could just see his shape through the swirling mist as he pulled the gate to behind him and turned towards the town. Then she saw him hesitate and stop. Slowly he turned around and took a few steps in the opposite direction towards the Point.

Beth, she thought, he’s going to say goodbye to Beth – and to his son.

She saw him falter and stop again. He stood in the lane, a lonely figure, gazing towards the Point, straining to see the Elands’ boat home through the mist.

Esther closed her eyes and laid her forehead against the cool glass.

‘Oh, Matthew, Matthew,’ she whispered.

When she opened her eyes and looked again, he had disappeared from view.

Twenty-one

LETTERS had always been rare amongst the small community at the Point. The arrival of one used to cause anything from delighted surprise to worried consternation, and everyone knew about its coming within minutes, sometimes even before the real recipient.

Now, letters, cards – news of any sort – were eagerly awaited and pounced upon. The first card, delivered by Will Benson on his rounds, came from Ernie Harris telling his parents he was still in training and had not yet heard of being posted abroad.