‘No – Beth’s dad never sets foot in a church – not as long as I’ve known him, an’ that’s all me life. No – the feller you mean is Robert Eland.’

‘Oh, yes,’ she said, remembering suddenly what Matthew had told her previously, ‘he lives in that boat stuck up on the river bank, dun’t he?’

Matthew nodded. ‘He’s a seaman at heart and dun’t really want to live on the land.’ He grinned. ‘I reckon he tries to get as near to living at sea as he can.’

‘Who was the portly gent and the thin woman with him?’

‘That’s Squire Marshall. He lives at the Grange.’

Esther nodded. She hadn’t been required to help out at harvest on the squire’s farm. He would employ enough of his own workers, she supposed.

There was silence between them, then Matthew asked, ‘Dun’t you want to know who everyone else was in church? How about the two women who . . . ?’

‘I dun’t wish to know who they were, thank you very much!’ Esther replied.

‘The fat one’s Martha Willoughby and the thin one’s her sister, Flo.’

Rather than display any interest in them, she refused to listen to Matthew any more, picked up two heavy buckets of milk and disappeared into the pantry.

There were others too who would not forget Esther’s first visit to the church and two in particular who had no wish to see her there again.

Three days after that first Sunday, a pony and trap bowled along the lane from Rookery Farm, turning sharp right at the junction with the lane running alongside the sand dunes and came to a stop outside Brumbys’ Farm. Hearing the rattle of wheels and the horse’s hooves, Sam came out from the barn and Esther peeped out of Curly’s pigsty, which she was cleaning out.

The two ladies from the church were climbing gingerly down from their trap and coming towards Sam, marching side by side as if confronting the enemy.

‘Sam Brumby – Flo and I would like a word with you, if you please,’ began Martha Willoughby, taking the lead.

Esther watched the scowl on Sam’s face deepen but he said nothing.

‘It’s about that young girl you have – er – living with you,’ put in Miss Flo, but she took care to stand slightly behind her more formidable sister.

‘You see, Sam,’ continued Mrs Willoughby, ‘Flo and I – we don’t consider it seemly for a young girl – and one of doubtful character and morals – to be living out here alone with you. I mean – did you know what she said to Tom about – about . . .’ The woman wafted her hand before her face as if it ill became her to speak of such an indelicate matter. ‘. . . the boar?’

Flo nodded in dutiful agreement. ‘It’s all over the town, Sam, just think.’