They were walking back the way they had come along the lane, but this time towards the town. Ella, never still, skipped and danced and hopped beside her mother. The late January day was blustery and cold. The icy wind stung the girl’s cheeks.

‘No. We’re going to Rookery Farm.’

‘Who lives there, then?’

Her mother’s voice was soft. ‘Uncle Danny.’

Ella stopped her skipping and stood still for a moment, her eyes shining, a grin stretching her wide mouth. ‘Uncle Danny?’ she squeaked with delight. ‘Really?’

Her mother nodded. Before they had gone very far, Kate said, ‘This way, Ella,’ and they turned to the left off the coast road, taking a lane leading inland. Ahead of them in the distance, Ella could see tall chimneys poking skywards from a clump of trees.

‘Is that it? Is that where Uncle Danny and Aunty Rose live?’

Kate smiled. ‘No, love. That’s the old squire’s place. It’s empty now, I think.’

‘Why?’ Ella jumped over a puddle at the side of the lane and back again, but the heels of her sturdy, lace-up shoes caught the edge and spattered her grey knee-length socks with muddy water.

‘Oh, darling.’ Kate sighed. ‘Do walk properly.’

Ella came and walked sedately beside her mother for a few moments. ‘Why’s the house empty, Mum?’

‘The squire died a few years back and his son lives in London.’

Ella, skipping once more, glanced across the expanse of open fields all around her. Shuddering, she pulled her scarf closer around her neck and muttered, ‘Don’t blame him.’

She felt her mother look at her. ‘Don’t you like it here, Ella? It’s our home.’

‘No, it isn’t. Lincoln’s our home.’

‘Well, yes, I suppose so. But our roots are here. This is where all our family are . . .’

‘Aunty Peggy’s our family,’ Ella retorted stoutly. She and her mother lived with Peggy Godfrey, Grandpa Godfrey’s sister, in a terraced house in Lincoln; it was the only home Ella had ever known. ‘She wants us,’ the young girl added pointedly. ‘Gran doesn’t.’

She heard her mother sigh and looked up to see the expression in Kate’s green eyes that said, You’re too sharp for your own good sometimes, young Ella Hilton. It was what Aunty Peggy often said to her when she asked too many questions. ‘Is that why we’ve never been here before?’ the girl persisted now. ‘Because you and Gran quarrelled?’

Kate looked away again, her glance roaming over the flat fields all around them. ‘I suppose so.’

‘What was it about?’

‘It’s a long story, love.’

‘Tell me?’

‘Not now. We’re getting near Rookery Farm.’

To their right, Ella saw a long, low farmhouse with white-washed walls surrounded by buildings, sheds and barns. Her mother was bending towards her. ‘You’re not to ask awkward questions when we get there, Ella. D’you hear?’