Chapters (53)
- Cover
- Title page
- Dedication page
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Forty-one
- Forty-two
- Forty-three
- Forty-four
- Sow the Seed
- Reap the Harvest
- About the Author
- ALSO BY MARGARET DICKINSON
- Acknowledgements
- Copyright page
‘I hope she’ll soon be well again, Will.’
‘Aye – well – yes, thanks, Esther.’
He still seemed ill-at-ease, more so than could be explained by his awkwardness with Matthew. She glanced up at him, an unspoken question in her eyes. Again Will avoided meeting her gaze.
‘Your – your Aunt Hannah’s been very good. Came and nursed the wife.’
Esther smiled. ‘Then I’m sure she’ll soon be well. The ’flu wouldn’t dare defy Aunt Hannah!’
Will laughed but shook his head. ‘She’s been good. Very good. I’ve not had much time for her in the past, but she’s been a godsend to us these last few weeks.’
Esther nodded. ‘I know, Will, I know. She’s a good woman, I’ll not deny that.’
Satisfied with her acknowledgement of her aunt’s virtues, Will backed away from the table, taking a last, almost despairing look at Matthew.
‘I’ll see you next week, lass. ’Bye, Matthew.’
Matthew did not respond.
Esther laid down the spoon she had been using to feed Matthew and stood up. ‘I’ll come out and see you off.’
‘No, lass,’ Will said quickly. ‘I mean – you stay with Matthew.’
‘He’ll be fine for a moment or two,’ Esther said firmly and followed Will out into the yard.
Standing by the cart as he climbed up on to his seat she said quietly, ‘Will – what was your news?’
He sat down on his seat high at the front of his cart and took up the reins. ‘I’ve telled you, lass. I got another tuppence on yar eggs.’
‘Will – that wouldn’t warrant three blasts on yar whistle coming down the lane.’
‘I’d ’ave thought you’d ’ave been pleased of a bit extra in these hard times,’ he snapped and clamped his jaw shut.
‘Will, please – tell me . . . ?’
‘Esther lass – there’s nothing more I can tell you. Now, will ya let me get on me way to the Point or I shan’t be home to the wife before dark.’
Reluctantly, she stood back whilst he turned the cart round and left her farmyard. She followed him as far as the gate, leaning on it to watch him go towards the Point.
Will neither looked back nor waved.
There was something – she knew – that he wasn’t telling her. And by the stubborn look on his face, he wasn’t ever going to tell her either.