Miss Mayfield made some noncommittal sound of agreement, and Mrs Baines went on, as though this chance to open her heart was welcome:

‘My husband won’t like it. He’s Walwyk born and bred, never went further afield than Selbury till he went to the war. We were married as soon as he was demobbed, and nothing would suit him but to come back here for our honeymoon. Still . . .’ She paused for a moment; and Miss Mayfield, glancing upwards and sideways, saw her profile as set and hard as stone. ‘Let me once get Sydney out of this and we’re off. Wesley can please himself. As I said before, I can always make a living.’

Miss Mayfield, who, like most unmarried women, was sentimental about the sanctity of marriage, was saddened by this statement. But she did not feel that any comment was justified. Mrs Baines went on:

‘If something’s wrong and you know it, the only thing to do is to walk away and forget it – if you can’t do anything about it, I mean. The scalding could have been just Ethel’s tale – we all know what girls are, specially at that age – but whatever Sydney is or isn’t, he isn’t a liar. Wesley’s strict about some things, and lying is one; he walloped Sydney the first fib he ever told. So if Sydney says Ethel’s fingers were put in the mangle, that’s enough for me.’

‘Yet the girl and her granny seem to be upon the best of terms.’

‘That’s what I say. There’s something wrong. I don’t know what. I don’t much want to. I only want to get shut of it all. And it may be I’m too late.’

They had passed the Post Office and the mouth of Curlew Lane, and reached the gate of a neat cottage, fronted by a garden which, unlike any other of its kind, had order and pattern. The vegetables, the gooseberry and currant bushes were all confined to the part nearest the road; separated from this utilitarian portion by a rustic pergola of roses was a piece of lawn upon which stood a birdbath and a garden table and some chairs.

‘I most sincerely hope that when the doctor comes, he’ll find nothing much amiss with Sydney,’ Miss Mayfield said, preparing to take her leave and turn back.

‘Oh, come in. Please. It’d be such a help if you’d just go up and see Sydney and tell him you’d seen Ethel and she was all right. He’s been on the fret’. Wanted me to go round and make out I’d gone to change the bandages! But, to tell you the truth, I didn’t dare show that much interest. Besides, whatever I said he’d think I’d made up to comfort him. He’d believe you.’

‘Well, of course. If you think I could do any good . . .’