Josephine Cox Sunday Times Bestsellers Collection. Josephine Cox

why she should ask him such a thing. ‘Why do you insist, when you know a promise of that kind is impossible?’ Fear squeezed his heart. Had she heard him in a coughing fit? Did she know how ill he had been feeling of late? Had Lucy told her about that day in the field, when she found him gasping for breath? And now Vicky was asking him to make a promise of this kind. He couldn’t do it. Nor could he voice his fears.

      ‘Promise me, Barney,’ she entreated. ‘Say you will never leave me, then I’ll be content.’

      Gazing into her quiet eyes, in the space of a single heartbeat he saw his whole life there, and somehow suddenly, the fear he had felt began to ebb away. ‘I promise,’ he murmured. ‘If it’s in my power to be with you forever, then I will.’

      ‘There! That wasn’t so hard, was it?’ She smiled, and for no reason he could fathom, he was a man at peace with himself.

      Cradling her face in his hands he kissed her long and passionately, and she responded with the nakedness of her body against his, rhythmically pushing against him then pulling away, until he rolled her beneath him and placing a gentle hand round each of her legs, he drew them apart.

      There was no need of words; there was nothing to say that had not already been said a thousand times.

      Wrapped around each other, they made such wonderful love; not as they had done many times before, with tenderness, but with a wild passion and a desperate, painful hunger that drove them into each other – almost as though they intended never to be separated.

      And then it was over, when their bodies were aching and vibrant and the life-juices still flowing, they held onto each other. For the rest of their lives they would remember this night; when for the first and last time they made love as never before, and Vicky drew from Barney a promise which, he knew in his lonely heart, he could never keep.

      Two days later, on a fine, breezy morning, Leonard Maitland boarded a liner for America.

      ‘I’ll be away for some time.’ An hour before setting off for the docks, he had called Barney to his office at The Manse. ‘I’m leaving you in charge as always, and should you encounter any problems, though I don’t imagine you will, you do know who to contact?’

      ‘Yes, I do, sir, thank you. I have his name and address.’ As ever, Barney was well organised.

      ‘Good man! As I already explained, the agent knows as much about my affairs as I do, and he’s well-placed to contact me in any event. I’ve arranged for the house to be taken care of, so there is no need for you to concern yourself about that. On the whole, I don’t envisage any problems.’

      ‘Thank you for your trust.’ Over the years Barney had come to like and respect this man who was his employer. ‘Rest assured I’ll do my best to keep the farm running smoothly.’

      ‘I know you will,’ Leonard declared. ‘You took excellent care of my interests when I was last in Boston. And now I must get off. I have a long journey ahead of me.’

      Barney walked with him to the taxi, Leonard carrying his bag and briefcase, and Barney following with his portmanteau. ‘Have a safe voyage,’ he said as Leonard climbed into the vehicle. ‘I hope your trip goes well.’

      ‘Oh, so do I, Barney!’ Leonard declared. ‘So do I!’ Gesturing for the driver to move out, Leonard caught sight of Vicky as she walked towards the river. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. If only Patricia was more like her, he thought, he would be a much happier man.

      Seeing the taxi, Vicky waved, her face wreathed in a smile.

      His heart warmed and with her face in his mind, Leonard took the smile with him, all the way to Boston, USA.

      ‘Well, it seems Mr Maitland went away at the right time.’ The whole family were gathered round for Sunday dinner – a grand affair with the table sagging beneath the weight of a partly-sliced beef-joint, a ham shank ready for the carving, various deep dishes of crisp-roasted and boiled potatoes, cabbage, carrots, and a pile of Yorkshire puddings the like of which Lucy had never seen before.

      There were also two large boats of meat-gravy and a dish of homemade horseradish sauce, a particular favourite of Lucy’s.

      ‘What makes you say that, Dad?’ That was Susie, seated next to him and already helping herself to a slice of beef.

      ‘Because the weather’s on the change,’ Barney explained. ‘Once the cold wind starts coming in from the north, you can expect to see winter on its tail.’

      Vicky tapped the back of Susie’s hand. ‘Don’t start eating yet.’

      She gave Barney a reminding nod, and he immediately roved his gaze across each person at the table in turn; when they were suitably attentive, he folded his hands together, bowed his head and started Grace. ‘We thank the good Lord for a healthy harvest, and for the food we are about to eat. God bless friends and family.’ He looked up, and already the dishes and plates of food were being passed round.

      ‘Well!’ Vicky tutted. ‘That was a short Grace.’

      ‘No matter,’ her husband replied, shovelling a heap of cabbage onto his plate. ‘It was sincere, and we’re good and ready to eat the fruits of our labour while they’re still hot.’

      ‘Why has Mr Maitland gone to America?’ Susie was curious.

      Barney passed Lucy the potatoes and gave his daughter one of his impatient looks. ‘You must have asked that question a hundred times or more,’ he chided. ‘The answer is the same as it was before – we don’t know. What’s more, it’s none of our business.’

      Still she persisted. ‘It must be something important, because that’s twice he’s been this year.’

      Rolling her eyes, Vicky smiled at Lucy, a smile that said, ‘Wait until your son starts asking questions and you don’t have the answers to give, it’ll drive you crazy.’

      ‘Well?’ Susie was like a dog with a bone.

      ‘Well, what?’ Thomas asked, his mouth full of part-chewed meat.

      ‘Don’t speak with your mouth full!’ Vicky reprimanded. ‘We none of us want to see what you’re eating, thank you.’

      Lucy loved having Sunday lunch with the Davidsons. This was a real family, with arguments and conflicting opinions, and questions without answers, and even half-chewed mouthfuls of meat. ‘I think Susie’s right,’ she said, glancing at the girl. ‘Mr Maitland must have important business to tend, or he wouldn’t have gone away again so soon.’ She hastily rescued a potato that was about to fall on the floor from Jamie’s teaspoon. The little boy was quite good at feeding himself now, but he was staring goggle-eyed at Tom’s antics and wasn’t paying attention. Lucy hoisted him straight. He was sitting on the high chair they had made him, and was in his element.

      ‘But why did he go the first time?’ Susie played with her Yorkshire pudding, spinning it on the end of her fork and nibbling at the crusty bits.

      ‘Hey!’ Ronnie leaned towards her. ‘If you don’t want that bit of pud, I’ll have it.’ Having already demolished three, he still had an appetite like a lion.

      ‘You will not pass food from plate to plate!’ Vicky declared, getting out of her chair. ‘There are half a dozen more in the oven. I’ll fetch them.’ Which she did, with Ronnie stealing one away on the prongs of his fork before she even got to the table.

      As Vicky sat down to resume her meal, Barney was explaining to his daughter, ‘You see, sweetheart, we didn’t make a big thing of it at the time, so you probably didn’t know, but Mr Maitland’s old grandfather passed away earlier in the year, and he had to go out and see to things.’

      Susie was indignant. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she asked petulantly. ‘I’m not a baby to be protected.’

      ‘I know that,’ Barney apologised. ‘But it isn’t the sort of thing you like to talk about, is it?’