‘Yes, you do,’ Beth said with a flash of her usual vitality. ‘He’s been here all the time with you since old man Brumby took ill. I thought at least once he were dead . . .’ The spark that had flickered briefly died and she sank back into lethargy, almost pleading with Esther. ‘Please – tell me where he is. I – I’ve got to see him!’

Esther eyed Beth shrewdly now – she looked dreadful. But if what Esther had in mind was going to work, then she didn’t want Beth to meet up with Matthew. She jabbed a clothes peg firmly over a sheet on the line. ‘Well, I dun’t know where he is. He went off early this morning and I ain’t seen him since!’

The girl stared at her, the last vestige of any colour draining from her face, Esther looked away from her again and bent to pick up another sheet from the washing basket. When she looked back, Beth had disappeared.

Esther worked through the day’s chores, Beth’s visit forgotten, for her mind was busy with her own problems, her own plans.

‘Cat got yar tongue?’ Matthew appeared in the wash- house doorway as she folded and mangled the sheets from Sam’s bed.

‘Eh?’ She looked round at him. ‘What? Oh, no. I was thinking, that’s all.’

‘You think too much, Esther me girl.’ He came up behind her, put his arms about her and nuzzled her hair. For once she did not pull away from him and, encouraged by her lack of rebuff, he kissed her neck.

Esther’s eyes darkened. He wanted her, she knew. But did he want her enough to marry her? Had his rash statement in her bedroom the night after Sam had died been made only in the heat of his rough desire for her?

His lips were searching for her mouth, his fingers reaching for the fastenings of her blouse.

‘No, Matthew, no!’

‘I want you, Esther, I’m goin’ crazy for you. Let me love you, Esther, please – please . . .’

‘I’ve told you before, Matthew Hilton, no man’s goin’ to touch me till I’m married!’

He looked deep into her eyes, his own burning with undenied passion for her. ‘Then marry me, Esther, marry me?’

For a long moment they gazed into each other’s eyes; his fervent, blazing with a frustrated passion that threatened to spill over and engulf them both. But Esther’s eyes were troubled. She liked Matthew – she liked him a lot. And he worked hard. Without his help she could never have coped over the last few months. But was it really enough for marriage? Could she really spend the rest of her life with him, working side by side on the farm? The farm! She felt a shudder run through her. How could she bear to leave Brumbys’ Farm now, the only real home she had ever known?