The squire shook his head and gazed about him almost in a trance as if he were overwhelmed by the enormity of the devastation. ‘I don’t know, my dear, I just don’t know.’ He paused and then went on more to himself than to the other two with him. ‘I had this stupid notion that I should find Rodney’s grave on a grassy hillside, a pristine white cross above it, and that I’d be able to lay flowers on it and . . .’ His voice broke and Esther, still holding his arm, gave it a comforting squeeze. ‘How very foolish I’ve been,’ his voice dropped to a husky whisper.

Esther looked across at Arthur. He had said nothing for a long time. His face was pinched, his lips blue with cold and he was shivering visibly.

‘Come, Squire,’ Esther said gently, the first of them to recover their senses. ‘We’d best find some shelter for the night. Your boy looks about done in.’

‘Eh?’ Roused from his ghastly reverie, the squire looked at his son. ‘Oh, dear me, yes. Come along, let’s leave this dreadful place.’

Together they walked back to the tired-looking pony and climbed into the trap. The squire turned the conveyance round and they made back towards the nearest village.

Along the road they passed a family – a man, wife and three children. The man was pushing a handcart loaded with all their possessions.

‘Excuse me.’ The squire halted the trap. The man paid no attention but trundled the cart along the side of the road.

‘I say – excuse me. Do you know if there are any British soldiers still here?’

The woman glanced up and the children stared at them, wide-eyed with fear.

Nervously, Arthur cleared his throat and asked the same question in his halting, schoolboy French. One of the children – a girl, barefooted and ragged – ran forward and plucked at the man’s coat, but the man trudged on. Arthur jumped down from the trap and followed the man a short distance along the road, and though they could no longer hear what was said, it appeared Arthur was still asking questions.

Esther saw the man let go of one of the handles of the cart and gesture briefly to the road behind him, but he neither stopped nor slowed his pace.

Arthur came back to the trap. He climbed in and sat down. ‘I think – though I’m not sure,’ he added apologetically, ‘he said “at the hospital back there”.’

‘Never mind, my boy. You tried. We’ll just keep going.’

As the trap moved on, Esther took a last look at the forlorn little family, homeless in their own country.