She heard the old lady draw in a sharp breath, saw the old eyes widen with a look of fear in their depths.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, but – but I just wondered if you knew what my grannie was like as a young girl. Who brought her up? She sort of – well – hints that she had an unhappy childhood. She seems very bitter, yet when I ask her she shuts up like a clam and won’t tell me anything.’

‘Oh, that!’ The relief on Beth’s face was immediately apparent. ‘Oh, well, I can’t tell you much, love.’ The smile was back on her shiny round face, the fear gone from her eyes in an instant. ‘All I know is that she’d been brought up by her aunt. Her mam had died when she – ya gran, that is – was born. And, by all accounts, the aunt just used her as a skivvy to help look after her own large family. About seven kids, I think she had; it was a lot anyway. Esther walked out one night when she was about sixteen . . .’ Beth was looking at her, but now her eyes had misted over and she seemed to be seeing pictures from the past rather than the young girl sitting in front of her. ‘About the age you are now. She came here to find work with old Sam Brumby.’

‘Brumby?’ Ella said quickly. ‘Sam Brumby? Is that why the farm’s called Brumbys’ Farm?’

‘Aye.’ Beth nodded. ‘His family had been tenants of the old squire’s family for generations. But when Sam died there was no one left to carry it on. And Esther wanted that farm. Oh, how Esther Everatt wanted that farm!’

Suddenly there was a flash of fire in the old eyes, a spurt of red anger in her rounded cheeks. ‘She didn’t care what she did to get it neither . . .’ Her hands, the veins standing out sharply on the back, grasped the chair arms. ‘Didn’t care who she hurt . . .’

‘Hurt? What do you mean? Who did she hurt?’

‘Eh? Oh . . .’ With a start Beth seemed to come back to the present, became aware of exactly what she was saying to Ella. ‘Oh – I – er – I shouldn’t be telling you all this. It’s water under the bridge now, child. It doesn’t matter any more.’

Suddenly tired, the old lady leant back in the chair and closed her eyes. ‘It doesn’t matter any more,’ she whispered again. But Ella had the uncomfortable feeling that it still mattered very much – whatever it was. And not only to Beth Eland. The shutters were down once more; Ella could probe no further even though she had not yet asked whether their two families were related somehow.