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along off with you.’
    But he was not deceived by her pretence of lightheartedness. He stood looking back into the room at her for a long silent moment, then he smiled and the admiration in his eyes was like a balm.
    â€˜See you at dinner then, Mother.’
    Victoria stared at the closed door, feeling suddenly drained. Her son imagined that it was her grief at Arthur’s death that was fretting her and of course, that was part of it. She pressed her fingers against her eyes and saw behind closed lids every word of the letter James had written to her.
    â€˜Fool!’ she said to herself in sudden anger. She moved towards the bed and sank down onto the soft silk of the counterpane. She felt suddenly very alone and terribly vulnerable, she who had always imagined herself to be strong. But she would not cry, what good were tears? And yet her spreading fingers were suddenly moist.
    Later when she entered the dining room, Sterling and Rickie were seated opposite each other, staring across the candlelit table as though they were adversaries. Almost absently, Victoria noted that Arthur’s place had been set; she must speak to the servants about it. Her attention was caught by Rickie’s voice raised in triumph.
    â€˜I just knew it, you’re taking on the man at the cemetery, the one with the fish cart. Do you really want such riff-raff in the works?’
    Victoria took her place, resisting the impulse to leap to Sterling’s defence. He was a man now, well able to speak out for himself.
    Sterling leaned back easily in his chair, shaking out the immaculately white napkin.
    â€˜David Llewelyn is an experienced copper man,’ he said goodnaturedly. ‘He was dismissed because of some lack of communication and I intend to reinstate him.’
    Rickie gave a short laugh. ‘And I suppose you didn’t even notice the pretty wench with him.’ His tone was heavy with sarcasm. Staring at him, Victoria wondered how she could feel such antipathy towards her own son; perhaps it was because she could see her own failings written so clearly into Rickie’s nature.
    Sterling shrugged without answering and Rickie, obviously piqued that his barb had missed its mark, leaned forward, elbows resting on the pristine damask cloth.
    â€˜You are so above it all, so high and mighty, aren’t you Sterling?’ His voice shook with anger. ‘But remember, pride comes before a fall.’ He rose quickly and strode towards the door.
    â€˜Rickie!’ Victoria called, ‘come back here at once, how dare you be so rude as to leave the table that way?’ But the door had slammed shut and Rickie was gone.
    â€˜What on earth’s wrong with him?’ Sterling asked thoughtfully. ‘He must be taking father’s death more badly than I thought.’
    Victoria fought back the wings of black panic that beat at her. Rickie must have a very good reason for behaving so abominably and she did not think that it had anything to do with Arthur’s demise. A terrible suspicion began to take shape in her mind, she remembered the empty box with vivid clarity and she gripped her hands tightly together in her lap.
    â€˜Let’s have dinner,’ she said with forced calmness, and no one would have suspected that her world was falling to pieces around her.

Chapter Three
    The green smoke lay low over the row of cottages, penetrating the crevices in the stonework, filling the cobbled roadway with a stench that caught the breath and burned the eyes of the children playing there.
    Mali stood in the doorway staring into the dimness of the evening. Her heart was heavy within her, loneliness a burden she could scarcely bear. From the corner of Market Street came the sound of Dai End House playing the accordion. The plaintive melody rose and fell on the still air like a lament. Mali’s throat tightened. Behind her the cottage was empty and silent and she was reluctant to return to the kitchen’s