Then something happened which gave him a new interest. At first Esther was gratified to see a spark of enthusiasm for anything, but as time went on she was to rue the day that the squire brought his brand new motor car down the lane to Brumbys’ Farm.

This strange chugging noise came nearer and nearer. Esther, in the process of stabling the horses she had on loan from the squire, had a job to calm the younger one. His eyes dilated with fear and he stamped and whinnied and backed away from his stable as if he thought the sound was coming from in there, and then just as suddenly, as if realizing his stable offered refuge from the noise, he shot forward almost knocking Esther over.

The chugging grew louder and Esther stared up the lane towards the town. Coming round the bend she saw a motor car bowling along the narrow lane and to her surprise turning in at her gate. She stood back against the wall of the cowshed, her hands spread against the brickwork behind her, staring wide-eyed as the vehicle, puthering smoke, came to a juddering halt in front of her. She saw the squire lean forward and then the engine died.

He climbed out of the vehicle. ‘Good morning, my dear. I hope you don’t mind, I thought I’d take Matthew for a little drive in my new acquisition. I thought it might – well, you know – perk him up a bit.’

Esther glanced towards the seat near the pond and saw that Matthew had already risen and was moving, with that peculiar, shambling gait, towards the motor car.

‘That was kind of you, Squire,’ Esther said.

Matthew was now standing near the motor car, his gaze roaming over it, his hands reaching out to touch the shiny metal.

‘If you’ll excuse me, Squire,’ Esther murmured.

‘Surely, my dear, surely. You have no objections to Matthew taking a spin with me?’

‘Of course not, Squire, it’s very kind of you to think of him,’ she repeated. And it was. It was kind of him and unusual for a man in the squire’s position to concern himself so with Matthew’s welfare. Perhaps, Esther thought intuitively, looking after another victim of the war is helping to ease the loss of his own son.

From the pantry she heard the car start up again and winced as the loud throbbing once more shattered the peace. Gradually the sound died away as the squire drove down the lane towards the town.

There he goes, she thought of Matthew not without a little bitterness, her lips pursing in disapproval. Gallivanting off with the squire, riding in a grand motor car and not even trying to lift a finger to do a few simple jobs. She sat down suddenly on the cold slab of the gantry.