‘Well – yes.’ Esther was puzzled. ‘You told me yourself, poor Mrs Marshall ain’t well . . .’

‘’Tain’t right. ’Tain’t fitting for you – a young woman to go off with two men.’

Esther laughed. ‘Oh, Will, really! Do you think that bothers me? Besides, from what I’ve read in all them papers you’ve kept bringing, in the war women have been doing things they never dreamed of; nursing, working in factories – all sorts of things. I reckon the days of chaperoning have gone – and good riddance, I say!’

‘You would,’ Will muttered, unable to argue with her. However, he was not going to let her have the last word. He faced her then, his eyes boring deeply into hers. ‘Ya’ll come back? Ya will come back?’

‘I’ll come back, Will,’ she promised him quietly, but that was the only thing she would concede.

‘Huh,’ he was muttering almost to himself, ‘and to think it were me that was daft enough to tell you about the squire going out there. I could kick mesen.’

The journey, even in the company of the squire and his younger son, Arthur, was for Esther a nightmare. She had never been anywhere other than the village in the Wolds where she had grown up and Fleethaven Point. Now she found herself being pushed on to a huge steam train that hissed and chugged and puthered smoke. She sat on the seat in the carriage at the side of the squire, her hands clenched around the holdall carrying her few belongings, her eyes tightly shut against the scene flashing past the window.

‘Do look at the countryside, my dear. It’s very different from our Lincolnshire, but every bit as beautiful.’

Esther took a peep, forcing her eyes beyond the rushing hedgerows to the fields further off, rolling by at a more sedate pace. ‘Oh, you’re right, Squire. It’s lovely. Where are we?’

‘We’re travelling south towards London. We’re in Cambridgeshire now, my dear.’

Esther smiled briefly, but said nothing. She was trying desperately to remember the picture of England divided into its counties in her school atlas, but she could not recall where any other county was except her own. She leaned back against the plush seat. Never mind, she told herself, it’s all beautiful, no matter where it is.

When they alighted at the huge, bustling station in London, fear washed over her again. It was a world such as she had never seen before – all metal and brick and stone. Not a blade of grass nor a tree to be seen. The engine gave a roar and belched out a jet of steam. Esther squealed in fright and clung to the squire’s arm.

Mr Marshall laughed. ‘There, there, my dear. Don’t be afraid. We’ll take good care of you. Just mind you don’t get separated from us, that’s all.’