Josephine Cox Sunday Times Bestsellers Collection. Josephine Cox

she had done this past week. She loved it all: the sound of the pigeons cooing at early morning, the dew glistening on the grass and the sun coming up over the hill, sending out warmth and light, and making the heart feel good. After a couple of days, her concussion had passed, but the kindly doctor advised her to stay where she was. Bridget and Tillie had brought Jamie up to Overhill Farm and enjoyed some country hospitality. Out here, the shortages and hardships of the town-folk had, to some extent, been kept at bay.

      In the evening she could see the lake in the distance, shimmering and twinkling under the moonlight. It was all a new and wonderful experience and she found herself waking earlier than she had ever done. At 5 a.m. she would run to the window where she would see Barney’s familiar figure as he went away to check his flock, the dog beside him and his master’s merry whistle echoing through the quiet morning air.

      Later, when she was pushing Jamie on the old swing in the orchard, it was a pleasure to see Barney and his sons as they worked the fields, always with the dog running behind, and the lovely Vicky, busy all the day long, collecting eggs, tending her washing, cleaning house and baking treats for her large, loving family; ever busy, ever noisy, just as Barney had promised.

      Barney and Vicky had three children. Thomas, at seventeen, was a serious and hardworking young man. Like the others he was devoted to his father who, in his eyes, could do no wrong. A handsome fellow, with sincere eyes and dark hair, he burned with ambitions of one day owning his own farm, unlike Barney who managed Overhill Farm for the wealthy local landowner Leonard Maitland, who lived at The Manse, down in the village.

      Along with his brother Ronnie, Tom helped Barney run the farm; the two sons did all the basic tasks, like feeding the many animals, collecting food from the supplier, taking produce to market and chopping trees, selling some wood and logging the rest for the home fires. In addition it was their responsibility to generally maintain the house and buildings.

      Winter or summer, there was always work to be done, and come harvest it was all hands that could be spared.

      At fifteen, Ronnie was two years younger than his brother. With wild fair hair and his father’s blue eyes, he was accident-prone, fun-loving, sensitive, sincere and fiercely loyal. When he flirted outrageously, which was often, the girls fell at his feet. Though he loved his mother dearly, he was devoted to Barney, attempting to emulate him in everything he did.

      Quiet and thoughtful, Susie was the only girl. Thirteen years of age and looking like a smaller replica of her mother, she adored her parents – especially Barney, who called her his ‘little angel’.

      Susie loved to do things for her daddy. She would polish his Sunday shoes before they all went to church; make daisy chains for him when they were picnicking, run and meet him when he came home of an evening. She would scold him when she thought he was not looking after himself and, except for when she was learning the art of hat-making under the scrutiny of an old eccentric by the name of Doris Dandy, over in Everton, she was never far from her daddy’s side.

      ‘I’d rather farm than make hats,’ she told him once, and because he wanted her to acquire a regular skill that would stand her in good stead for the rest of her life, he would hear no more of such talk.

      Lately, having become increasingly curious about the deeper things of the heart, Susie would often corner her daddy to discuss the mysteries and meaning of life. Sometimes out of his depth, Barney would talk and listen, and they would each learn from the other.

      As for Lucy, in the short week she had lived under their roof, she had come to care deeply for Barney’s family. Everyone who knew them had a good word to say for them. The love and support they all gave each other was wonderful to see; even when brothers and sister argued, that bond of togetherness never broke.

      Witnessing family life at first hand made her own loss and disappointment all the more poignant. If only Edward had stayed, instead of running away again, she thought, maybe they could have had the same close family life. Yet in all her regrets, she did not hate him, though God knows she had tried hard enough to do so. She was bitter though; bitter and resentful of the fact that he could casually show up after all this time, only to turn her life upside down yet again. Thank goodness that the shock of the accident had brought on her monthly bleeding a week early. To have allowed Edward to make her pregnant again would have been a disaster.

      Today was Lucy’s last day with the Davidsons. While she got herself and her son ready, Vicky and her family were downstairs waiting for her to join them for the evening meal. ‘I wish we could stay,’ Lucy told the child as she fastened his blue jacket. ‘It’s been so lovely here. I’ll miss it all so much.’

      In reply, Jamie ran his little wooden engine over the floor making train sounds. He loved being read to and petted by the older children in Barney’s family; in turn, they all adored the little chap and had spent many happy hours showing him all the farm animals. Like his mother, Jamie would miss all of this.

      Lucy had been strong with every disappointment that life sent her way; Edward going off to sea; the discovery that she was with child, and having to tell her parents the truth; then her parents splitting up after weeks of rowing and fighting, and afterwards finding herself out on the streets.

      And only a week ago, when Edward had come home, her hopes had soared only to be shattered again; and as though to add insult to injury he had run off and left her lying hurt, leaving Barney to take care of her. That was a cowardly thing he had done.

      Through all of these events she had been strong. But now, as she prepared to leave Overhill Farm and the Davidsons, she felt so sad. It was one disappointment too many.

      Now her stay was over, and when the meal was finished, Barney would take her back to Bridget’s and life would resume exactly as it was before. She would rise early, leave her son in the care of little Tillie, and trudge through the fields to the squire’s house, where she would work a hard day before trudging back again. She had never been afraid of work, but it was a lonely kind of life, and she missed her son. He was growing fast and she was losing out on his development.

      No home of her own, working every hour God sent, and no man to stand by her. Lucy thought it was not much of a life to look forward to. But that was the life she had been given and it was up to her to do the best she could with it. And she would, for what other choice did she have? She knew she should never have given in to Edward’s wiles, should have kept herself pure for marriage, but somehow she’d never met the right man when all her schoolfriends did, and in her mid-twenties had felt like an elderly spinster. And oh – how Edward’s caresses had thrilled her, and made her lose her head, heart, and virginity too. Oh well. It was true, the old saying that there was no use in crying over spilled milk – that was for sure. And now it was very unlikely that she would ever find a decent man who was willing to take both her and Jamie on …

      As she walked into the homely kitchen, Lucy was astonished to see the family standing round the table, waiting for her; Ronnie, she noticed, had taken time to tame his unruly hair, Thomas gave her a welcoming wink, and Susie was quietly smiling.

      Barney and his wife were standing together, he with his arm round her and she so content beside him. ‘Come in, my love!’ She ran to greet Lucy, and as she led her and Jamie across the room, she said, ‘Look. I’ve made the table pretty for you.’

      Overawed by what they had done, Lucy looked at the table and wiped away a tear. It was laid as if for a banquet. Normally the table was simply laid, with the meals already served on the plates. There was never any fuss or ceremony. Over dinner, everyone would get together, tuck into Vicky’s home-cooking and talk about the day’s events.

      This evening, though, was extra special to all of them. There was an air of excitement which Lucy could not understand; especially when they knew she was unhappy about having to leave.

      It was almost as though they were pleased at the prospect of having the house back to themselves. Yet even while the unfortunate thought crossed her mind, Lucy could not believe it. This past week, Barney and his family had done everything they could to make her feel like one of them, so why would they be relieved to see her go? No! She was wrong. All this fuss and excitement was their way of trying to make