She kept up the bright, inconsequential chatter, but behind her she heard Will murmur hoarsely, ‘Lass, eh me lass!’ She did not turn round, did not respond to the sympathy in his tone. She dare not, for the lump that rose in her throat threatened tears. She refused to let anyone except Jonathan see her weep.

Her mind latched on to other thoughts. ‘What was your news you were so anxious to tell me, Will?’

‘Oh, er, yes, that.’ He shuffled his feet on the cinders. ‘Oh, ’twas nothing really. Just – er – just that I got a better price for your eggs than usual at the market last week.’ His voice faded away. ‘It – it was nothing – really . . .’

She glanced at him, but his eyes flickered away and would not meet hers. ‘Ya’ll stay for your dinner, Will, as usual?’ she asked quietly, knowing full well that the price of eggs had not been his news. She had never before seen Will Benson so excited about having secured another couple of pence on her eggs. But it was obvious that he was not going to tell her now – not once he had set eyes upon Matthew.

All through dinner, whilst Esther patiently fed Matthew, Will could only look on helplessly. He picked at the food on his own plate, his anguished gaze going from Matthew to Esther’s face and back again. Will seemed, time and again, to try to speak, to try to think of something to say. Easy, natural conversation would not come. Esther could sense that he did not know how to handle this new and uncomfortable situation.

‘Where’s Kate?’ Will asked suddenly.

‘At school, of course.’

‘Oh – oh, yes. I forgot.’

There was silence, then Will whispered, ‘Is she – I mean – how has she . . . ?’ His glance flickered towards Matthew.

‘All right.’

When Will’s expression showed scepticism, Esther added, ‘No, really. She’s very good. Fetches and carries for him. Almost mothers him.’

‘She’s – she’s not afraid, then?’

‘Not a bit. First time she saw him, she just stared at him for a while and then went and fetched a picture she’d drawn at school to show him. Not that he takes a lot of notice, but she chatters away to him. Sometimes he seems to listen – sometimes not.’

Will was silent again.

At last, almost with a sense of relief, he stood up and pushed back his chair. ‘I – er – I must be going, Esther lass. Me wife – she’s – not well. I dun’t want to be late home.’

Esther, a spoonful half-way to Matthew’s-mouth, said, ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Will. Nothing serious, I hope.’

He shuffled his feet. ‘’Tis this influenza that started last year, Esther. It’s the very devil. Two in our village have died of it already.’

‘Really. I hadn’t heard of it. It dun’t seem to have come round here.’

‘Well, you’m lucky then.’