Ella gawped at her again, trying to imagine bathing in the kitchen in front of the fire instead of in the white enamelled bath at home.

‘It seems,’ Esther Godfrey remarked drily, ‘that you’ve been spoilt by city life, Missy. You’ve a lot to learn . . .’

‘I don’t think I want . . .’ Ella began and then the sound of hob-nailed boots in the yard made her glance out of the scullery window. Suddenly everything was all right, for coming across the yard was someone she knew – knew very well – and loved dearly.

‘Grandpa. Grandpa!’ she cried, and, shaking the icy droplets from her hands, she ran out of the back door.

‘Just a minute,’ her grandmother began, ‘you haven’t finished washing your hands properly . . .’

But Ella was gone, scampering across the yard towards the tall man whose blue eyes crinkled with laughter when he saw her. Knowing her grandmother must still be watching, Ella flung her arms wide in greeting, inviting him to catch her and swing her up into his arms.

‘My, you’re getting a big girl,’ Jonathan Godfrey said, pretending to puff and pant under her weight.

Casting a sly glance back towards where her grandmother stood, hands on hips, watching, Ella wound her arms around her grandfather’s neck and pressed her cheek close to his bristly face. Seeing the frown on her grandmother’s face, Ella was triumphant.

‘Have you given Kate her letter, Esther?’ Grandpa Godfrey said as he pulled off his cap, unwound the long woollen scarf from his neck and kissed Kate’s cheek in greeting.

‘Letter? For me?’

Ella saw her mother’s puzzled expression. ‘Why should a letter for me come here? I haven’t lived here for years.’

With a work-worn hand, the purple veins standing out against the tanned skin, he swept back the untidy lock of greying hair that fell across his forehead and shrugged. ‘Well, it did. Last week. I was going to send it on to you, but knowing you’d be coming for the funeral . . . Where is it, Esther?’

‘On the mantelpiece in me bedroom.’

A few moments later Jonathan was handing it to Kate.

‘Who’s it from, Mum?’

‘I . . .’ Her mother’s fingers were trembling. She was staring, mesmerized, at the envelope in her hand.

‘Open it, Mum,’ Ella urged, hopping up and down. ‘Who’s it from?’

‘Be still, child. Leave ya mother be . . .’ her grandmother began.

‘Come outside with me, Ella,’ Grandpa Godfrey said.

‘But I want to know . . .’

‘Come along. Put your coat on.’ Though his voice was gentle, his hand on her shoulder was firm and would allow no argument. ‘We’ll go and feed the pigs.’

‘Mum . . .?’ Ella began again, but her mother was not listening. Instead Kate was now hurrying towards the door leading into the privacy of the living room, everyone else in the kitchen forgotten . . .

‘Where are we going, Mum? Are we going home now?’