‘Maybe,’ he said quietly, ‘maybe it would have been better if me life had stopped – out there. Ya’d be better off if I had died out there.’

Though she heard the words, she didn’t listen to their meaning – their real meaning – and she retaliated impulsively, ‘Aye, mebbe it would . . .’ Her mouth fell open and she stared at him, stricken with swift remorse for allowing the cruel words to spurt, unchecked, from her lips.

Even to her own ears, her words, shrill and venomous, had the ominous ring of her Aunt Hannah venting her frustration on the young girl for whom she had grudgingly taken responsibility. In the same way that, deep down, Esther resented the burden of a helpless husband which the war had thrust upon her.

She saw his hands start to shake and his head twitch and her shrill tongue was silenced.

He was struggling to speak, to explain. ‘I just thought the kids – we live a long way from – school – and town. I just thought . . .’

Aye, she might have known, she thought bitterly, his life revolved around Kate and Danny now – and his jaunts into the town with the squire. Jaunts that had resulted in this last act of madness.

Why? She railed, turning her anger inwardly on herself now, rather than on Matthew. Why hadn’t she had the sense to hide her money? Even before the war, he’d hardly shown signs of thrift. He had cajoled her into agreeing to buy the horses. Then he’d come home with a new suit without so much as a by your leave or can we afford it! And that because he had wanted to attend his son’s christening. Now, it was even worse, he was scarcely stable in his mind. What a fool she had been! She should have realized something like this might happen. Esther blamed herself. She was responsible for him. It was like looking after another child. The man she now called her husband bore scarcely any resemblance to the old Matthew. Except, she thought ruefully, when it came to spending money.

His whole body was now convulsed with the shaking and Esther had to put her arm about him and lead him into the house. He dropped into the chair by the range and she knelt down in front of him and took his hands in her strong work-worn grasp. ‘Don’t fret any more. I’m – I’m sorry for the things I said, but – well – you made me mad . . .’

Matthew grinned lopsidedly, but she was relieved to feel the shaking ease a little. Even in the midst of her anger, she had no wish to make him ill again.

‘It’s not a new one, Esther,’ he was saying hesitantly. ‘A chap had it afore the war and – well – he didn’t come back . . .’ He struggled to continue. ‘His widow was – glad of the money.’