With the hand that still held the telegram Esther shaded her eyes against the sun and met Robert Eland’s gaze unflinchingly. She saw his glance switch to the piece of paper rattling gently in the breeze, then come back to her face.

Levelly she said, ‘Robert – can I speak to Beth, please?’ She heard him draw in breath quickly between his teeth and for a moment his eyes seemed to widen.

He nodded briefly, turned away and disappeared, leaving Esther standing on the river bank below.

It seemed an age that Esther waited, and yet it could not have been more than a few moments that she stood in the sunlight, staring at the black bulk of the boat in front of her. Her eyes took in the peeling paint exposing rotting wood. Poor Robert, she thought, he hasn’t had time to keep his own home in good repair. Being one of the few able-bodied men left, Robert Eland always helped out on the estate when needed. And he was often needed.

I wonder why no one has called him a coward for not volunteering? she thought and then answered her own question in her mind. It would be difficult for anyone to accuse Robert Eland of cowardice; many times he had risked his life out at sea in the lifeboat rescuing others. The war had brought a greater number of tragedies at sea. She bit down hard upon her lip as she remembered it had been just such a reason that had brought Enid rushing to the farm for the horses; the night the girl had seen Esther emerging from the barn, her clothing in disarray. I mustn’t think of him, she told herself, not now!

She waited in the hot sun, breathing in the scent of the countryside, yet unaware of it. Seagulls screeched overhead, bees hummed busily and butterflies fluttered aimlessly. But the bright day seemed only to mock her. How can it be such a beautiful day, how dare it be, when I . . . ? She closed her eyes a moment against the glare and when she opened them again she saw that Beth was standing at the end of the planking.

The two women stared at each other and then Beth came slowly down to stand in front of Esther.

Neither of them spoke, yet their eyes held each other’s. Wordlessly, Esther held out the telegram for Beth to read. The woman, who had borne Matthew’s son, reached for it with shaking fingers.

Dragging her gaze away from Esther’s she lowered her eyes and read the words. At last she raised her head, eyes closed and a low moan of anguish escaped her lips. ‘Oh, no! No!’

Gently, Esther eased the piece of paper from Beth’s rigid fingers. ‘Beth – I know how you feel. I never – understood not before. Now I do.’