From the photograph, Matthew’s solemn face stared up at her. He looked very grand in his uniform. It looked grey on the photograph, but she knew from having seen Ernie that it would be khaki, buttoned up to the neck. He stood stiffly, with his feet set slightly apart, his legs encased to the knees in a sort of bandage – there must be a name for them but Esther didn’t know what it was. On his feet were sturdy boots. Well, she thought, Matthew’s used to wearing them, but he looks thinner in the face. His eyes, staring straight into the camera, held a scarcely concealed fear. He had been plunged into a strange and violent world, and he must now be seeing sights and experiencing tragedies he had never before imagined even in his worst nightmares. Already he looked a very different man from the one who had left Fleethaven Point only a few months ago. He looked as if he had aged ten years in as many weeks.

The photographs were identical and Esther wondered why he had sent two. Perhaps it had been a standard fee for so many and, not having had anyone else to send one to, he had sent them both to her.

The thought struck her suddenly, flashing unbidden into her mind. Perhaps he wanted Beth to have one, but did not like to send it to her direct because of Robert Eland.

Esther sniffed. Well, he’s had that! she thought with a trace of belligerence and tucked the spare photograph into a drawer, slamming it shut with an air of finality. She carried the photograph of Matthew upstairs. Taking the old picture of Sam Brumby’s parents out of its silver frame, she found that the new one of Matthew fitted perfectly in its place. Downstairs again, she stood it on the mantelpiece in the kitchen. Alongside it she placed the pretty Christmas card. It was the first card she could ever remember having received.

She picked Kate up and pointed to the photograph. ‘Look, Kate, that’s your daddy.’

The child pointed. ‘Dadda,’ she said obediently. ‘Where Dadda?’

‘He’s away, darling,’ Esther murmured. ‘Maybe for a long time.’ As the child wriggled to be set down to run outside to play, Esther was left staring at the photograph of her husband.

Three months later on a blustery Friday in March, the news made headlines in the local paper which Will Benson now brought out to the Point each week. Alongside a notice of yet another mass meeting for recruitment with the clarion call to ‘Come and Join His Majesty’s Forces’ were the words:

BRITISH CASUALTIES

Local squire’s son and estate worker killed on the same day.