The squire came every Friday to take Matthew into the town to the market. The first week, Matthew just got up from the bench seat by the pond and climbed into the vehicle and off they went, but the second week, Esther found him in the bedroom pulling on his Sunday best suit. She opened her mouth to say sharply, ‘And where do you think you’re off to in that, m’lad?’ then pursed her mouth against the sharp rebuke. Aunt Hannah was surfacing again, she reminded herself. Her fleeting resentment against his ‘gallivanting’, as she termed it within her own mind, died when she saw how unshapely his best suit was now. It hung on his emaciated, stooping frame, a pathetic reminder of his suffering and a reprimand to her uncharitableness.

‘Why, you ’aven’t fastened your collar stud, Matthew. Here, let me.’

‘It’s – stiff,’ Matthew murmured, but Esther knew his fingers, still without strength, could not cope with fastening the collar on to his shirt.

‘It’s me starching,’ she laughed. ‘I always get yar collars too stiff. Now put yar jacket on.’

She held it for him whilst he struggled to put his arms into the sleeves. Then she stood back to look at him. ‘Let me brush it down for you. It’s a long time since you’ve worn this. I hope the moths haven’t got at it.’

Matthew stood meekly whilst she flicked the clothes brush over his shoulders and down his back. ‘There now, that’s better.’

She stood watching them go until the car disappeared around the bend in the lane, listening while the chugging grew fainter.

Esther was preparing supper in the scullery by the time she heard the chugging sound of the motor car coming nearer and nearer. Outside it was almost dusk and Kate had been in bed over two hours.

Esther glanced at the clock on the mantelshelf above the range. Almost nine o’clock. Where on earth had they been until this time? She heard the car stop at the gate, and watching from the small scullery window, she saw Matthew climb out and lurch unsteadily towards the gatepost and lean against it. The car reversed into the gateway and then, with a grating of gears, it swung out again and up the lane towards the road leading off to the Grange.

Esther opened the back door. Matthew was still standing clutching the gatepost as if he needed its support to keep him upright.

Esther clicked her tongue in exasperation and walked towards him across the yard. He was lolling against the post, his arms wrapped around it and as she drew near, she realized just why. Even from a few feet away she could smell the ale on him!

She pursed her mouth. Now she knew why the squire had driven off so quickly. He had not wanted to face her anger.