‘Ah – er – Mrs Hilton. Good morning. Er – so nice to see you.’ The vicar greeted her, but he seemed oddly ill-at-ease, and his handshake was swift and too brief. He seemed to snatch his hand away after the merest contact with hers, and turn away quickly to greet, with an exaggerated enthusiasm, the couple walking behind her.

Esther nodded to two or three people she knew by sight, but there was no courteous raising of hats by the gentlemen or answering smile from the ladies. One or two pointedly turned their heads away, deliberately cutting her. Esther held her head high, her chin jutting forward defiantly as she marched down the pathway and out into the road. It was obvious they had all heard about her and the soldier who had come to the Point, no doubt thanks to Martha Willoughby. So what? What did they know about falling in love and being loved by such a man as Jonathan Godfrey! Never, ever, would she allow anyone – least of all these people she hardly knew – to make her feel ashamed of loving Jonathan.

Esther walked all the way home, her anger making her quicken her pace until Kate begged her to slow down.

‘I’m getting a pain in me side, Mam,’ she wailed.

‘I’m sorry, Katie,’ Esther said, immediately contrite.

Kate, soon sunny-natured again, asked, ‘Can I go and play at the Point when we get home?’

‘Yes, yes, you can,’ Esther decided suddenly. ‘I’ll come and see Ma, too.’

When they reached the stretch of ground between the cottages and the river bank, they saw three of the younger Harris children and Danny playing soldiers, marching up and down with sticks on their shoulders for rifles.

‘You can’t play, Kate,’ shouted Georgie Harris. ‘We’re going to war. War is men’s work.’

Esther looked down at her daughter to see the child’s lower lip quivering.

Then Danny was standing in front of them. ‘Dun’t cry, Katie. Course you can play. You can be a nurse when we gets wounded – like Mester Godfrey.’

Esther felt a lurch in her chest at the mention of his name, but Danny, unaware of the effect his words had upon her, was taking Kate by the hand and leading her into the game.

Esther wandered towards Ma Harris’s cottage. She tapped on the door, opened it and was about to step inside when Ma’s ample frame appeared in the doorway. Esther gasped aloud as she looked into Ma’s set face. Her eyes were cold and her mouth set in a hard line.

‘Well?’ she asked shortly. ‘What do you want?’

Esther shrugged. ‘I just came – to – to see you.’

Ma stood her ground, making no move to invite Esther in. ‘Well, Ah dun’t want to see you,’ the older woman said harshly.

‘Ma, I . . .’

Ma Harris turned away. ‘Please go, Esther. We’ve nowt to say to one another. Not any more.’