When she opened her eyes, it was to see her mother standing in front of her, hands on her hips. ‘Do, lass? What d’ya mean, do?’ And then in answer to her own question, she added. ‘Ya going to get on with ya life, lass, that’s what ya going to do. Meet a nice feller, get married and give me a barrow-load of grand-bairns.’

Kate smiled. Oh, how good it was to be home!

Feigning the submissiveness of childhood, she said, ‘Yes, Mam.’

She didn’t see Rosie or Beth Eland. She didn’t want to see Rosie, not ever. And she couldn’t even face Beth – not yet.

‘Ya will come home for the wedding, though, Kate, won’t ya?’ her mother asked.

Kate shook her head. ‘I can’t, Mam, I just can’t.’ Then she eyed her mother with amusement – the first flash of genuine humour she had felt recently. ‘Don’t tell me you’re going, Mam? Not to an Eland wedding?

Esther wriggled her shoulders. ‘Ya Dad ses I’ve got to go,’ she smiled self-consciously. ‘We alius seem to come together – me an’ Beth – for funerals and the like. I ’spose a wedding’s as good a reason as any.’

‘Well, it’s an improvement on funerals!’ Kate remarked drily, and her mother had the grace to smile.

‘Ya ought to come, Kate. He is ya brother.’

‘By heck, you’ve changed your tune!’ Then her tone softened sadly. ‘Oh, Mam, if only you’d told us that years ago.’

‘I know, lass, I know. Mebbe we should have done.’ She sighed. ‘But it weren’t all my secret, y’know.’

There was silence between them, only the ticking of the clock and the crackling of the wood on the fire in the range.

‘I can’t come to the wedding, Mam. Really I can’t.’

On the day she knew Danny and Rosie were getting married, Kate was safely back at camp, although her mind was anywhere but on her job.

‘What is the matter with you today, Kate?’ Philip asked her as she took a corner too sharply and the offside wheels bounced on to the grass verge. Even that reminded her sharply of Danny, she thought wryly, and the time they had landed up in a ditch in the Squire’s car. Aloud she said, ‘Sorry, sir.’

‘Is there something the matter?’

‘No – no, sir.’

‘I’ve told you not to call me “sir” when we’re on our own.’

‘No – Philip.’

They fell silent and didn’t speak again until she drew up a little way from the camp to allow him to get into the back as had become their habit.

‘I shan’t need you again today. Get yourself down to the pub in the village with some of your mates and relax a little.’

She forced a weak smile and met his gaze in the rear-view mirror. ‘Is that an order – sir?’