‘Don’t be silly, Matthew.’ She pushed against his chest, trying to calm him, to make him sit down again. ‘There’s no boat out there on a night like this. Sit down . . .’

Suddenly there was surprising strength in his hands as he gripped her arms, his eyes wild. ‘No, no – their boat, Elands’ boat. It’s not safe – not in this storm. Beth – Danny – they’re on that boat.’

‘Matthew, listen to me – Robert’ll have brought them off. He wouldn’t . . .’

‘He’ll not take care of them.’ Matthew was ranting now, panic and terror in his frenzied eyes. ‘He’ll not care for my son. Or for Beth . . . my Beth. He’s let that boat go to ruin. The wood’s rotten now – I’ve seen it.’

Esther opened her mouth to argue, but suddenly a memory flashed before her – a memory as clear as if she were seeing it before her eyes right now. It hadn’t really registered at the time, yet now amidst Matthew’s wild babbling, she knew he was speaking the truth.

It had been when she had received the telegram about Matthew and she had gone to see Beth. It was the only time she had been really close to the Elands’ boat home – and now in her mind’s eye she was seeing once more the rotting, unpainted wood of the boat and the poles and stays that supported it on the river bank. All had been allowed to fall into a state of decay.

She gasped as realization hit her. In such a storm those poles, rotten with neglect, would give way.

‘They won’t have stayed on the boat, Matthew,’ she insisted. ‘Not in this lot . . .’

He wasn’t listening to her rational statement. All he was thinking of was Beth – and his son.

With sudden, inexplicable strength – the strength that fear gives for those few vital minutes – he pushed her aside, not caring that she lost her balance and fell to the floor. Reaching the back door, he flung aside the chair and the door blew open, the storm raging into the house.

‘Matthew, Matthew—’

But he had gone out into the storm.

Esther dragged herself to her feet and staggered after him. The wind blew her shawl from her shoulders and tossed it into the air. The rain soaked her blouse within seconds and plastered her hair to her head. Leaning against the wind she struggled towards the Point. She saw Matthew crest the Hump and disappear from her view.

As she reached the top of the steep rise and came down the other side, she saw he was striving to reach the boat. Already the swollen river was flooding on to the bank, the water swirling around his ankles. The boat seemed to have been lifted up off its supporting poles and looked to be floating, heaving from side to side, and yet it had not yet broken adrift from its mooring.