Long after Tilly returned to her own brood next door, Molly’s quiet thoughts strayed to Emma Tanner, who, according to Tilly, had lost a son. Though Molly’s sympathy was tempered by her fear and loathing of that particular family, she hoped, with a mother’s heart, that the Lord might ease the awful grief which Emma Tanner must now be suffering.

On the second of September, in the year of our Lord 1886, the son of Marlow and Emma Tanner was laid to rest. Afterwards the many mourners filed through the big wrought-iron gates, each one with heavy heart and bowed head. Each one to pause at the gate, where they took Emma’s black-gloved hand into their own and murmured their genuine condolences at such a tragic waste. Throughout the whole, sad ordeal Emma stood upright and dignified, loyally supported by her dear friend Nelly on one side, and her beloved husband Marlow on the other. He also was grief-stricken at the loss of his adored son. But he had vowed to remain strong for Emma’s sake. Emma was crippled beyond redemption at having lost her son, Bill. Her precious son. Her pride and joy. The one child with which the good Lord had blessed her, only to snatch him cruelly away. Just as he had robbed her of the girl-child all those years ago.

Of a sudden, Emma felt incredibly old. On that day only last week, which seemed a lifetime ago, a shining light had gone from her life. Oh, she loved Marlow as much as any woman could love a man. He was her rock, the strong anchor that had sustained her faith for all the years when she was alienated from her homeland. He was everything a man could be to a woman, and life without him was unthinkable. But there had been another part of him that she had cherished with all of her heart – his son and hers. Bill was the living creation made out of their deep, abiding love for each other. In his stalwart and gentle character, he was all that Emma could ever pray for in a son. Now that he was gone, how could she face another day without his eager, shining face to smile at her and his boyish ways to vex and try her?

‘God! Oh, dear God,’ she prayed inwardly now, ‘if you really are there in your Heaven, tell me why you’ve taken his young and innocent life? Why? WHY?’ Only the muffled sound of shuffling feet answered her, as one by one the mourners gave their love and sympathy. There is no answer from God, she thought bitterly, because there is no God. And for me, there never was! All the trauma and tragedy of her life came rushing back to haunt her. So many mountains to climb. So much heartache. Would it never end? A tide of weariness surged through her and for the briefest moment her strength wavered. Leaning into Marlow’s loving embrace she whispered, ‘Take me home. Please, take me home.’ But then she realized with a stab of pain that there would be no small welcoming face there to greet her. Never again. Never again! No laughing bundle of joy to come eagerly running at the sight of her. In her house there were no children. The cruel words seared into her mind. No children. In her house there were no children. Now, there could be no grandchildren either!