Straight opposite her across the yard were some stables, the cowshed and between the two, a small barn. The stables were littered with an accumulation of rubbish slung in carelessly; tools, empty sacks, a barrow and harness badly in need of cleaning and polishing. So, thought Esther, there’ve been no horses in here recently.

On the right hand side of the yard was a row of small, brick buildings – three pigsties and a tool shed. Beyond that was a large barn with a hayloft.

Four geese headed by a gander came waddling towards her, protesting loudly. The gander spread his wings. Flapping and shrieking, he thrust out his neck and came rushing towards her, his webbed feet slapping the cobbles. Esther stood her ground, hands on hips and faced the fearsome bird.

‘Ya can stop that racket!’

He stopped, his vicious beak only inches from her. The wings settled back and, fluffing his feathers, he regarded her with tiny bright eyes. Behind him his mates squawked encouragement from a safe distance. With one last strident screech of disapproval, he turned and, gabbling to his wives, he waddled away. Dutifully, the geese fell into step behind him.

Esther glanced across the yard and saw that Sam was looking out over the half-door of the cowshed, presumably to see what was causing all the noise. For a moment he stared at her, then, even from this distance, she heard him sniff and saw him scratch his white stubble thoughtfully. He glanced at the departing gander and then back at Esther before turning away.

Already the sun was setting, throwing shafts of golden April sunlight across the fenland fields that stretched westward, flat as far as the eye could see till they touched the glowing sky. As dusk closed in on the farm, the tiredness swamped her. She hadn’t slept for over thirty-six hours and though the work she’d done that day had hardly been strenuous even in her own estimation, every bone and muscle in her body ached to lie down and rest.

But the work was not done yet. From the cowshed she could hear the sounds of evening milking. She leant on the half-door watching Sam, listening to his rasping breath as he worked. She saw him lever himself up from the low milking stool and a grunt of pain escaped his lips.

As he moved towards Clover in the end stall, the animal lashed her tail and kicked out sideways with her back leg, catching Sam a painful blow on the shin. The old man swore volubly and then, suddenly becoming aware of Esther’s shadow at the door, turned his anger on her. ‘Ah told you to clear off. Ah dun’t want you here. Ah dun’t need no help.’

He snatched a leather thong from a hook on the wall and strapped it round the cow’s back legs. Now Clover was forced to stand still an submit to being milked.