Perhaps her Uncle George was the only one whom Esther would remember with affection. A strong ox of a man, he was kindly but slow-witted and no match for his wife’s sharp tongue. He was even overawed by his growing children. Esther had watched his efforts to be close to his family meet with derision. Somehow, she thought, there was a streak of cruelty in all of Hannah’s children – and they did not inherit it from their father!

When she saw Sam come out of the back door and go towards the barn, Esther collected the milk and carried it back into the house. She stood at the top of the three steps down into the pantry and surveyed the long, cool room with its red brick floor. At one end similar red bricks formed a raised gantry. Round the walls were shelves cluttered with all manner of stone jars, earthenware basins and bowls, enamelled jugs, scales and weights, knives, spoons and ladles – the conglomeration of years of neglect. On the top shelf was a row of glass preserving jars still holding fruit that was grey with age, a thick layer of dust lining the greased paper tops. Cobwebs festooned the shelves, looped between the jars and spiders scuttled away at her approach.

Her glance came to rest – with a final expression of disgust – upon the dairy equipment on the gantry.

‘It’s a wonder the folks drinking this milk don’t die of disease,’ Esther muttered aloud and with pursed lips set herself to clean the bowls, milk cans and the barrel-shaped butter churn. By the time Sam returned, she was pouring the milk into a spotless separating bowl, broad and shallow for the cream to rise to the top.

‘Thought I told you to go?’ he said, standing at the top of the pantry steps.

‘Just thought I’d do this for you, Mr Brumby. After all, this is woman’s work. I’m sure there’s something else waiting that needs a man’s brawn.’

He gave an angry snort. ‘Cheeky young wench!’ he growled and shook his fist at her before turning away. ‘Just dun’t let me catch you still here next time Ah gets back. That’s all!’

Esther straightened up and eased her aching back. With one last glance of satisfaction at the change she had already wrought in the pantry, even though it had taken her nearly the whole day, she went outside again. She saw Sam disappearing into the cowshed. She stood outside the back door of the house and looked about her.

Just how, she asked herself, was she going to get this stubborn old man to admit that he needed help about his farm? Her help!