Josephine Cox Sunday Times Bestsellers Collection. Josephine Cox

might tell the family.

      ‘Look at me, Lucy.’ Raising his arms, Barney let his hands fall to her shoulders, his smile quick and confident. ‘You can see for yourself, I’m right as rain now. It was a coughing fit, that’s all it was. I won’t have Vicky or anyone else worrying about something and nothing.’

      Lucy didn’t argue. In fact, she was amazed at how quickly he had recovered. One minute he had looked so ill, she feared for his life, and the next he seemed fine. ‘You’re sure you’re all right?’

      He nodded. ‘Like I said, right as rain.’

      Believing she might have over-reacted, Lucy took him at his word. Besides, though his colour wasn’t fully returned, he did seem fine now.

      Barney called her attention to the three approaching figures; the two sons in front, obviously not aware that their mother was some distance behind. ‘Remember,’ he urged. ‘Not a word.’

      While they were looking across the field, they saw the figure of a man standing beneath the dipping boughs of a tree. ‘It’s the boss, come to keep an eye on us,’ Barney said jokingly.

      So, while Leonard Maitland watched the family, Barney and Lucy watched him. ‘What the devil’s he up to?’ Like Lucy, Barney was intrigued.

      ‘I expect he’s been out for a long walk and is taking a rest in the shade,’ she answered.

      Barney laughed. ‘He may well be,’ he remarked, adding tongue-in-cheek, ‘He’s also taking a long, leisurely look at my woman.’ Thrusting his hands into his pockets he seemed a proud man. ‘I should’ve told him,’ he said casually.

      ‘Told him what?’ It had not occurred to Lucy that Leonard Maitland was watching Vicky in particular, but now she could see that while he rested from the heat, Leonard Maitland did in fact seem more preoccupied with Vicky who, unaware of his interest, walked on, the plates cradled in her arms and with eyes only for Barney.

      Like the cat that got the cream, Barney wore a smile from ear to ear. ‘I should have warned him,’ he said. ‘Every man that’s ever clapped eyes on my Vicky has fallen head over heels in love with her.’ His eyes shone with joy as he watched her drawing nearer. ‘And all she ever wanted were me … a farm worker who owns nothing and never will.’

      His eyes widened with a rush of astonishment. ‘What she ever saw in me, I’ll never know.’ His voice dropping to a whisper, he spoke as though to himself. ‘I just thank the Lord for bringing the two of us together.’

      As always, whenever she witnessed the love between these two people, Lucy was humbled. She saw the adoration in Barney’s eyes and the joy in Vicky’s face as she waved to him.

      Vicky may have been aware of Leonard Maitland or she may not. But it was Barney she was looking at. Barney, her man, her everything. She was one side of the coin; he was the other.

      ‘Look! He’s going now.’ Lucy brought his attention to Leonard Maitland’s retreating figure.

      Barney made no comment just then, but he noticed how Leonard Maitland continually glanced back at Vicky. And who could blame him, Barney thought as he brought his own tender gaze to the kind, caring woman he adored.

      Vicky always looked lovely, he thought, but today she was especially beautiful with the breeze playing round the hem of her skirt, lifting it and twirling it, her golden hair blown gently back from her happy face, oh and that smile. Even now after all these years, he could hardly believe that Vicky was his wife. From the moment he had first seen her, he wanted no other. And he never would, for the kind of love they shared came only once in a lifetime.

      Shortly afterwards, Barney’s mate Adam arrived. ‘I’ve finished thatching Widow Mason’s porch,’ he told Barney, ‘so I wondered if you might have use for another pair of hands?’

      Barney thanked him. ‘The more the merrier, matey,’ he said, and his pal threw off his jacket and got to work.

      Tired and sweating under the hot sun, Lucy soon forgot Leonard Maitland and his seeming infatuation with Vicky. Barney, however, for good reason kept it quietly at the back of his mind.

      Leonard Maitland needed a drink.

      Having hurried home, tired and hot, he had rushed in, closed the door to shut out the world, and was now helping himself to a small whisky. ‘God knows what they must have thought!’ he muttered, gulping down the drink. ‘Me standing there, gawping at another man’s wife like some lovesick fool!’

      Deep in thought, he wandered across the room, images of Vicky filling his mind: running, tripping, laughing, she was the essence of womanhood. Yet he had other, more urgent things to think about. A few days ago, he had received a letter from America, to do with his late grandfather’s estate in Boston, Massachusetts. It seemed he might have to fight to retain the old man’s house and lands. Things were happening which could send it either way. If it went one particular way, it could mean him selling up in this country and making a new life over there. Leonard had spent months at a time in his youth with his maternal grandfather, Farley Kemp, on the thousand-acre farm. He loved it out there – although his English heritage meant that he loved it here, too, east of the Mersey.

      He considered for a moment. If he went to America, would he take Patricia with him? And what of Barney and his family … and Vicky? Leonard might be well-off financially, but he didn’t have endless funds. The last thing he wanted to do was put Barney out of work, but he might not be able to avoid it.

      If he had to, he’d fight tooth and nail to keep it all together. But there were things happening out there which could mean he had little choice. If it went one particular way, it could mean his having to sell up in England and make a new life in Boston, America.

      He considered the prospect for a moment. He would almost welcome the challenge. It would mean he could keep his grandfather’s beautiful house and vast estates. He had worked his way up from a farm-labourer to create one of the most successful businesses in Boston. Besides that, it was a wonderful home, warm and welcoming, filled with happiness and contentment, the kind of which he’d never really known.

      The memories still came flooding back. When he was a child, the highlight of his year was going to see his grandparents. Those amazing weeks when he was there were the happiest of his life. His grandfather would take him across the estate; sometimes on the back of his horse and later Leonard would ride alongside him on a pony, and oh, what adventures they’d get up to … racing each other across the headlands; climbing trees or riding to the top of a hill, so his grandfather could show him the house and lands from a distance, and even then they could never see the horizons of what belonged to him … lands that were loved and tended, houses and homesteads nestling in the valleys, and cattle by the hundreds; all this, all painstakingly, lovingly forged out of nothing, with only the strength of his own two hands and the heart of a lion.

      He closed his eyes, his emotions in turmoil. When his grandfather lost his wife, he lost all sense of purpose, and now everything he worked so hard for was at risk.

      Going to the armchair, Leonard sat down and gazed into space for what seemed an age. He gathered his thoughts and knew what he must do. He wouldn’t let it be lost. He couldn’t let them take it. He didn’t have so much here to fight for, but he could try and save his grandfather’s dream, and given the chance, that’s what he’d do! Getting out of the chair, he smiled, at ease with himself. ‘I think it’s time I had a new life, a new direction. There is little to hold me here. I’ve gone as far as I can go, and now it’s time to face up to a new challenge.’

      Dipping into his pocket, he took out a long, official-looking envelope with an American stamp. Unfolding the letter he began to read:

       Dear Mr Maitland,

       I am pleased to inform you that certain matters relating to the estate of your grandfather, the late Mr Farley Kemp, are now settled. However, several important issues remain which demand your urgent attention. As you are the only surviving relative of the deceased, it is imperative that you contact