The service came to an end and Esther stood behind Sam whilst the gentry from the front pews walked down the aisle and out of the church. There was a portly gentleman with whiskery grey sideburns and red-veined cheeks that spoke of too much indulgence of the port. He nodded and smiled to each side as he strutted down the aisle. Esther watched as the men touched their foreheads in a deferential salute, whilst the women smiled self-consciously and nodded. One or two even bobbed at the knee. In contrast to the gentleman’s jolly manner, the woman who walked at his side with her hand in the crook of his arm was a thin, miserable-looking creature. True, she acknowledged the greetings of the congregation with a quick, darting look and the briefest of nods, and then her eyes were downcast to the floor as if she almost feared to meet anyone’s gaze directly. She looked nervous and ill-at-ease, though why Esther could not imagine, for it seemed her husband was held in high esteem.

Behind them came Tom Willoughby with two ladies whose skirts rustled and swished. One was very large, tall and stately. She sailed along, her breadth filling the width of the aisle. Her face was bloated and the folds of fat beneath her chin wobbled as she moved. The woman with her was thin, with steel-rimmed spectacles perched on her hooked nose. A receding chin and protruding upper teeth accentuated her thinness.

As he drew level with the pew where Sam Brumby and Esther were still standing waiting to leave, Tom Willoughby greeted them. ‘How do, Sam? And you, lass?’

Sam nodded briefly and Esther smiled up at the huge figure of Tom Willoughby, causing the two women with him to look her up and down. Their heads bobbed together as they whispered to one another and then they stared at her again. Boldly, Esther returned their scrutiny. As she passed close to Esther, the thin woman pointedly picked up her skirt and pulled it towards herself as if to avoid the merest contact with Esther, even though Sam stood between them.

Sam, Esther noticed, spoke to no one and acknowledged only very few people – the portly gentleman and his wife, Tom Willoughby and the vicar as they left the church – and then only with a sharp nod, a swift pecking movement. All the rest of the congregation Sam deliberately ignored, even those from the Point who were, after all, his nearest neighbours.

As Esther followed Sam from the church the vicar was standing outside the porch shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries with each member of his congregation.

‘Ah, Mr Brumby.’ He clasped Sam’s hand warmly. ‘It’s good to see you, good to see you.’

‘Parson,’ Sam murmured.

‘And is this the young lady I’ve been hearing so much about who’s come to help you on the farm? Glad to meet you, my dear, glad to meet you.’