Rose shook her head as she sat staring into the flames of the fire. ‘A good turnout.’ What did that matter? But it had been said as though she should draw comfort from it, and the vicar had reiterated the same sentiment when he’d remarked that she must be gratified her husband was so clearly respected and liked by his fellow workers and the folk hereabouts.

Tears stung the backs of her eyes and as she stood up she said out loud, ‘None of that, no more crying.’ Tears did no good, besides which she’d cried enough the last few days to fill the ocean. She had kept telling herself that once the funeral was over – which she had been dreading – she would be able to take stock, to start thinking about the road ahead. Well, it was over and it had been even worse than she’d anticipated. Davey’s family hadn’t said a word to her nor had they come back to the house, all of which she’d expected, but as they’d left the graveside she had heard Davey’s mother say to Phyllis that Davey would still be here now if he hadn’t married her and had to work so hard. ‘Men take silly chances when they’re under pressure,’ she’d said loudly enough so everyone could hear. Back at the house the mourners had made short work of the refreshments she’d provided, bought with the rent money, but the neighbours had been good, lending her cups and saucers and plates, and Mrs McKenzie had helped her to wash up afterwards and then returned the borrowed crockery whence it’d come.

The thought of her neighbours’ kindness was weakening, affecting her far more than Davey’s family’s hostility, and brought more tears. After a grim childhood in the workhouse she’d had an early introduction to how cruel and unfair people could be and had become accustomed from a very young age to expect bitter rejection and rough treatment from those who thought themselves better than her. She knew Davey had been saddened by the attitude of his family and his mother in particular, but in truth their refusal to accept her had only bothered her because it had upset him. She’d told him many times she was tougher than she looked and it didn’t worry her, but he wouldn’t believe her. Davey, oh, my lovely Davey . . .