Peeping round the comforting figure of her grandfather and using his presence as a buffer against her mother’s wrath, Kate said, ‘I’ve been on the beach with Danny.’

She saw her mother’s mouth tighten. ‘I thought as much. Into the scullery and wash yar hands. Dinner’s in ten minutes, now yar grandad’s here.’

Kate obeyed, but left the door ajar so that she could peep through the crack and listen to their conversation.

In a tone that Kate could not remember having heard him use before, Will said, ‘What’s this Katie tells me about you sending her away to school?’

She saw her mother glance up in surprise, the iron suspended in mid-air before it thudded down on to one of the baby’s white frocks.

‘Well?’ Will Benson’s tone was sharp.

The iron came up again, the tiny dress was flicked over and the iron thudded down once more. In the grate of the huge black range a log fell, sending a shower of sparks up the flue.

‘I’m thinking about it – that’s all.’ Her mother’s tone was terse. ‘Nothing’s settled – yet.’

‘Ya shouldn’t be even thinking about sending the bairn away. A country bairn in a city! Lass’ll pine away. Besides, how can you afford the fees them fancy schools charge?’

‘I’ve scrimped and saved – that’s how. I’ve still got me box under the bed and there’s not a week goes by but I don’t add a shillin’ or two. I can afford it, Dad, I’ve minded that.’

Will grunted, casting about for another objection now that one had been foiled. ‘Ya trying to turn her into something she’s not . . .’

‘Dad – I’ve got to get her away from here. Now she’s growing older. You know why. It’s for her own good.’

And although Kate strained her ears, it seemed as if her grandad made no reply to her mother’s puzzling statement.

Two

‘Kate. Kate, where are you?’

‘Here, Dad, in the wash-house.’

Jonathan Godfrey appeared in the doorway. ‘Samphire’s about to calve. Do you want to watch?’

‘Me mam’s set me to mash these ’tates for the little pigs. Then she said I’d to go to bed.’

‘Bed? This early?’ His blue eyes sparked with mischief, the tanned skin around them wrinkling with laughter-lines. He brushed back the lock of fair hair that fell in a gentle flick over his forehead. ‘What have you been doing to deserve such dire punishment?’

Kate breathed in the smell of steaming potatoes, just out of the copper in the corner of the wash-house. As she thumped the wooden masher down, splitting open the brown skins and releasing the creamy potato, her hair fell forward like a curtain, hiding her face. ‘I was late back from the beach,’ she muttered.

‘And?’ he prompted. ‘There’s got to be more than that.’