‘I forgot to feed the hens ’afore I went to play with Danny.’

‘Ah – with Danny.’ She thought she heard him sigh softly, but his eyes were twinkling at her as he added, teasing gently, ‘And forgetting the hens. Dear me, that explains it.’

She smiled ruefully and continued mashing the potatoes with a steady, easy motion.

‘Well,’ he was saying, ‘I could do with a little help . . .’

She tossed back her hair, her eyes shining. ‘Aw, thanks, Dad.’

He put his forefinger to his lips. ‘Not a word to your mother.’ He turned to go. ‘Samphire’s in the little barn, Kate. There’s more room there than in the cowshed.’

The girl nodded, understanding immediately. This particular cow out of their small herd of four was temperamental at the best of times. She had to be hoppled sometimes just to be milked; calving, she’d be even more difficult. They’d need plenty of space to avoid her kicking hooves.

A little later Kate crossed the yard to the small barn lying between the cowshed and the stables. As she stepped into the dim interior and pulled the door closed behind her, a rat scuttled along a rafter above her head. She glanced up and smiled briefly.

‘I ain’t time to be chasing you, Mester Rat. You’re safe from me big stick just now!’ she murmured, thinking of all the times she and Danny had made a game of chasing rats. As her eyes became accustomed to the gloom, Kate moved softly across the thick carpet of straw towards where her stepfather stood beside the cow. Samphire was making a dreadful noise, bellowing and stamping. Suddenly she pushed sideways towards Jonathan Godfrey, pinning him against the brick wall.

‘Dad!’

‘Keep back, Kate,’ he gasped. ‘Don’t get near her back legs – whatever you do.’

With all his strength he shoved at the cow and, gaining a little space, moved swiftly out of the way.

‘You all right, Dad?’

‘She’s winded me a bit, that’s all,’ he said, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. ‘I can’t seem to pacify her, Kate. Your mother’s the only one who can quieten Samphire.’

After a moment’s hesitation, for it would mean she would be banished from the barn, the girl asked, ‘Shall I fetch me mam?’

‘You can’t. She’s gone to the Grange to see Squire Marshall. It’s rent day.’ He glanced down at her and for a moment the worried expression on his face lightened as they exchanged an amused glance.

Esther Godfrey was meticulous in money matters. Her quarterly rent for the tenancy of Brumbys’ Farm, which was solely in her name, must be paid exactly on the day it was due.