‘I know, Ma, I know,’ Esther said sadly.

But it was a comfort to have Ma Harris’s robust friendship once more.

Three days after they had arrived home, Esther, washing up in the back scullery, heard the shrill sound of Will Benson’s whistle in the lane. Three times he blew on it, just as he had on the day the war had ended. Had he heard already that Matthew was home, she wondered, and it was his joyous greeting to someone they had all believed lost?

Will pulled his carrier’s cart into the yard and climbed down from his seat, a broad grin on his face. ‘Esther, lass, I’ve got news for you. Wonderful news!’

‘Have you, Will? That’s nice,’ she said, drying her hands on her white apron. Outwardly she appeared calm, but inside her heart was thudding in her chest.

Will was coming towards her, his arms outstretched as if to embrace her, though normally he was an undemonstrative man. ‘Wait till you hear what I’ve . . .’ His glance went beyond her, towards the back door of the house. His gaze became fixed, the smile faded from his face and his arms dropped limply to his side. Esther knew why, for behind her she heard the shuffling, unsteady gait of Matthew’s footsteps on the cinders of the yard.

Esther stretched a smile upon her mouth. ‘We’ve got news for you, Will,’ she said quietly. ‘Look who I brought home from France.’

She turned and went towards her husband, taking his arm and gently leading him forwards. ‘See, Matthew, here’s Will come on one of his visits. He’s come all the time, right through the war.’

She leant forwards putting her mouth close to Matthew’s nodding head. ‘He spoils our Kate summat rotten, given ’alf a chance. Now, come and sit on this seat against the barn wall. Ya can sit a few moments, but not long. It’s not warm enough yet to sit out. Come the spring, we’ll all feel better.’

Will was still standing in the middle of the yard, just staring at Matthew.

‘You taken root there, Will Benson?’ Esther forced herself to laugh. ‘An’ close yar mouth, ya’ll be catching flies.’ The older man still continued to stand and watch as Esther lowered Matthew tenderly on to the bench seat against the barn wall.

‘Mr Marshall sent this across yesterday, from his own walled garden, so his man said. Weren’t that kind? He said he thought Matthew would be able to sit in the garden when the weather gets warmer. I’ve put it here for the time being, as it’s more sheltered near the barn. Later on we’ll move it near the pond.’