Mags’s laugh wasn’t as enthusiastic as that of the other two. Yes, she was a widow, but of the wrong man. But she joined in the banter about who was the bossiest, and whose children were the cleverest and the best behaved. Billy lost the last one, as he was always a tartar, but a lovable one, and between them they were steering him in the right direction. However, Mags had to admit to being worried about how he would turn out, and how his half-sister, the gentle-natured Sibbie, would cope with him as time went on.

Once they’d drunk their tea, Betsy took her cardigan off the hook on the back door. ‘Well, me lasses, I’ve to fetch the young ’uns from school. It’s my turn. I’ll call by the docks to see if I can buy us some nice fish for tea. Cook’s going to try to make chips. I cut all the spuds up for her, and we filled the large pan with lard, so we’re in for a treat t’night.’

Mags and Susan looked at each other. They both knew that the trip to the docks was more Betsy hoping to catch Angus, to have a chat once his boat came in. When she’d gone out of the door, they both giggled. ‘Fish, ha, if I never see another one, I’ll be happy. We’ve had it every night while you were away, Mags: fish and mash, fish pie, fish stew, fish and beans. I tell you, if fish is good for the eyesight, I’ll never go blind.’

Mags joined in Susan’s laughter. ‘Oh dear. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, but Betsy seems to think it’s by buying his fish!’

‘Bless her. I hope that works out for her, ’cause, even though there is the three of us, you can still feel lonely.’

‘Oh, Susan, don’t. My loneliness eats away at me. It drives me to search for something to fulfil me. I know getting the mill up and running will do that, but as that’s a while away, I’m pinning my hopes on my trip to France and making all the arrangements for me and Beth to travel. What about you: how do you combat loneliness?’

‘Well, I was leading to that, because I too have a liking for a local man.’

‘Oh? Well, that’s good news. Does he like you, and who is it?’

‘It’s Rory’s son, also called Rory. He . . . well, he knows our story, Mags. I’m sorry, but you see I bumped into him up at the churchyard and we got talking. It became a regular arrangement to walk up there together.’

‘Oh?’ For a moment Mags felt a pang of fear that the villagers would hear, and what would they make of it all? To those living in a village and leading an ordinary life, without such drama, the whole thing would sound very sordid.

‘Don’t worry, Mags. Rory won’t say anything to anyone – he promised me, and I believe him. Only I wanted to be honest with him when he asked about my connection to Montel and what my name was. He thinks it’s all a very sad tale, and he admires you. He doesn’t know how you surmounted it all to take care of me, but he says he’s glad you did.’