Tom Willoughby’s huge bulk came towards them.

‘Squire,’ he greeted his landlord cordially but with due deference. ‘Hello, Esther lass. Any news from Matthew, then?’

Esther drew breath sharply and avoided looking at Jonathan. ‘No – no, I’m afraid I haven’t heard from him – in ages.’ She had told no one about the last postcard from Matthew, but even that had been several weeks ago now, so her answer was not exactly a lie. Yet Esther, always truthful, felt it to be. Her heart thudded a little faster, and she was sure her cheeks grew pink.

‘I’m sorry to hear that, lass, real sorry,’ Tom was saying.

There was a moment’s awkward silence between them, then Tom Willoughby and the squire both began to speak at the same moment.

‘I wanted—’

‘How—?’

‘Sorry, sir, after you . . .’

‘No, no, Willoughby, it was nothing really, just idle conversation. If you’ll excuse me I’ll get round to some of the other guests.’

He nodded and smiled at the three of them and as he moved away, Esther said, ‘What were you going to say, Tom?’

‘I was about to say that I wanted a word with you, Esther. I’ve a bit of bad news. I don’t know if you’ll be able to borrow the threshing tackle the squire lends us. It’s at my place now, but I’m having the devil’s own job wi’ the blessed traction engine! The man we usually get when it plays up has volunteered and I don’t know of anyone else who knows about engines.’

‘Oh, no,’ Esther groaned. ‘With so many hands short, I was relying on that.’

‘Er, perhaps I might be able to help,’ Jonathan’s deep voice put in quietly. ‘What sort is it?’

Tom Willoughby told him. A smile spread across Jonathan’s face. ‘I’ll take a look for you, Mr Willoughby, if you’d like me to?’

‘Well, if you think you can do owt, young feller, I’d be chuffed. Er, ’ow do you know about steam engines, then?’

‘Made in Lincoln, wasn’t it?’

Tom Willoughby nodded.

‘That’s where I worked before I joined up. I maybe even worked on it, Mr Willoughby.’

‘Well, I’ll be damned!’ exclaimed Tom Willoughby with such a comical look on his face that both Esther and Jonathan burst out laughing.

It was the only unfeigned laughter heard all evening and then it was heard by many only with disapproval.

Later the following day, Esther went to Rookery Farm to find Jonathan up to his elbows in grease and oil, clambering all over Tom Willoughby’s huge traction engine.

She had not seen him all day. Frustrated and feeling neglected, she had guessed that was where he would be. She didn’t stop to think of the consequences that parading her friendship with Jonathan before Martha Willoughby and her spiteful sister could bring.

She had to see him.