He had not gone away. He had not left without so much as a goodbye, as she had believed. They were standing in the kitchen, just looking at each other.

Esther was searching for something to say but could think of nothing. She smoothed the palms of her hands, suddenly moist, down her white apron.

‘Well, I’d better be off,’ he said. ‘Robert Eland is taking me out in his boat, fishing.’ But still he made no move to go.

There was silence between them as they stared at each other.

‘Well, er . . .’ he said at last. ‘Maybe I’ll see you later?’

Esther nodded. ‘Don’t fall in the sea,’ she teased him.

Esther went about her work during the afternoon in a daze. Ever before her mind’s eye was a smiling face with brilliant blue eyes. By dusk, when Kate was in bed and Esther began the evening milking, she had given up hope of seeing him again that day.

‘Hello,’ came the soft, bass voice, and Esther looked around Clover’s rump to see a dark shadow framed in the early evening sunlight leaning over the half-door. She felt a sudden flutter beneath her ribs, and her fingers stopped their gentle pulling on the cow’s teats and involuntarily she tightened her hold.

Clover, unused to such ungentle treatment particularly from Esther, lashed her tail and kicked out sideways with her hind leg. The cows hoof struck Esther’s knee and the swishing tail cuffed her cheek. Surprised, she toppled backwards on to the cobbles of the cowshed.

In an instant he was bending over her, dropping to one knee in the slurry, his blue eyes clouded with anxiety.

‘Are you hurt?’ He put his arm under her shoulders and bent as if to put the other under her knees to pick her up, but, more startled than hurt, Esther struggled to rise.

‘No – no, really. I’m fine.’ She gave a nervous laugh as she gained her feet, disturbingly aware that he was still supporting her, standing very close and holding her arm.

Clover had turned her head and was looking at Esther with soulful eyes. Esther reached out and patted the cow’s back. ‘It’s all right, old girl, it was my fault,’ she crooned gently. Embarrassed, she looked up into Jonathan Godfrey’s face and explained, ‘She – she’s temperamental and needs a lot of coaxing. . .’ Feeling an unaccustomed foolishness, she let her voice trail away.

Gently, he said, ‘It was my fault entirely, I startled you – and her.’ Tentatively, he put out his hand and stroked Clovers hide. The cow moved under his touch, but it was a movement of pleasure rather than of restless irritation.

Esther laughed in surprise. ‘She likes you. You must have a special touch.’ Immediately the words were spoken, she flushed with embarrassment, and more so when she realized he had still not let go of her arm.