Her mind was a blank, refusing to take in the scene she had just caused. She had known her mother would be angry and upset, but Esther had been unrestrained and undignified in her wild fury. Her mother had always had a quick temper, and even as a child Kate had often felt the sharpness of her hand, though always on her legs. But never before had Esther smacked her across the face like that; not even when she had caught her with Danny. Kate could still feel her jaw smarting now.

She sat huddled in the dunes for a long time, until the cold seeped through her clothing and she shivered. She looked up to see that the sun had disappeared behind Brumbys’ Farm. Stiffly, Kate stood up. She hesitated for a moment, undecided whether to go home or to go to the Point to see Beth and Rosie. She sighed. She wasn’t ready to tell them yet, nor could she stay out here all night – though she wished she could!

As she crossed the yard and went towards the back door, she could hear the sounds of evening milking coming from the cowshed. She bit her lip and paused, listening. Now she could hear her father’s deep tones, talking soothingly to the cows as he milked them. As she moved to the shed and opened the half-door, Jonathan straightened up and came towards her. He held out his arms to her and wordlessly, she went into them. He held her close and stroked her hair, just as he had in her childhood.

‘Oh Kate, love. Don’t think too harshly of your mother. She – she has reasons why she reacted so badly.’

Kate drew back and looked up at him, straining through the dimness of the shed to see his face. ‘It’s not what I think of her, it’s what she thinks of me!’

‘She’ll come around. Give her time.’

Jonathan was wrong. Esther did not ‘come around’. She said no more to Kate, indeed, she virtually ignored her presence. Although she laid a place for her at the table and served her meals, she refused to speak to her elder daughter and pointedly avoided even looking at her. Lilian sat silently at the table, her eyes downcast. Immediately meals were finished, the younger girl would leave the table and shut herself in her bedroom with her books, taking refuge from the storms within the household and refusing to take sides.

When Kate’s seventy-two-hour pass was almost up and she had to return to camp, she had still not found the courage to see Beth and Rosie.

They’ll know soon enough, she thought, as she repacked her bag for leaving.

‘You ready, lass? I’m taking you back to camp.’

‘Oh, Grandad, I don’t think . . .’

‘No, Dad,’ began her mother. ‘You didn’t ought . . .’