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dignity.
    â€˜Don’t let him hear you say that, Ben. He’s got rid of Binnie as it is, I couldn’t stand it if you went too.’
    â€˜I won’t go, don’t you worry, I’m part of the furniture around here. I’ve been working at the pottery since it was opened and no-one, not even that slimy creature, will make me leave.’
    He smiled down at her. ‘Are you hungry? I’ve got a nice bit of cold pie and a jug of milk in the outhouse. I was just going to have my tea, would you like to join me, Miss Savage?’
    Ben made a mock bow and Llinos smiled. Ben might be an employee but he had been like a father to her since her own father had gone abroad.
    It was warm in the shed with a shaft of pale sunlight illuminating the unglazed pots on the shelves.
    â€˜Llinos, you are going to need some help, the place is undermanned as it is and now with Binnie sacked it’s going to be impossible to get enough stock to make a profit.’
    Ben handed her a cup of milk. ‘Pity your father ever went to fight in the war.’ Ben poured some milk into another cup. ‘Had to be him that got killed, didn’t it? But then the Lord only takes the good ones.’
    â€˜I can’t believe my father is dead, Ben, can you?’ Llinos drank some of the milk; it was cool and creamy and fresh from the cow. So fresh that bits of grass still floated in it.
    Ben refilled his pipe. ‘That’s the way of wars, girlie.’ He sighed. ‘A handsome man was Mr Savage, you follow him for looks.’ He smiled. ‘The same dark hair, the brown eyes, oh yes, you are your father’s daughter, no doubt about it.’
    â€˜When I was a child he used to hold me on his knee and tell me stories before I went to bed. As I grew older, he talked to me about the china. He loved the pottery, Ben, why did he go away?’
    â€˜He felt it his duty, I ’spects. But you’re right, when your daddy was home we had good times, right enough.’
    â€˜And now the good times are all gone,’ Llinos said. Once there had been light and laughter in Pottery House. There had been servants to do the cooking, to take care of the chores. Being waited on hand and foot was no less than Llinos expected, she had taken it all for granted, unaware that she had been born to privilege. Well, she had no privileges now.
    â€˜Your father’ – Ben sucked on the stem of his pipe – ‘he was the sort of man who believed in justice. He believed he should help get rid of that Bonaparte once and for all.’
    â€˜But we are not going to be attacked by a French army, are we, Ben?’
    â€˜The war needs to be fought, girlie, there’s not much sea between France and England and it’s easily crossed. Seems the French had plans to do just that. Gathered at Boulogne, they did, and it took Nelson to put them off the idea. Just can’t trust them foreigners. You wouldn’t like to wake up one morning and find a French man at your door, would you?’
    â€˜So my father was killed protecting us from something that the French might or might not do?’
    â€˜Sounds daft put like that but then war is daft.’ Ben began to puff on his pipe, sending up spirals of smoke that mingled with the motes of dust drifting across the window.
    â€˜Hit her hard, your dad’s death did, mind.’ He jerked his head towards the house. ‘Mrs Savage cried for days when she heard the news. No consoling her. Like a poor ghost she was for a long time. I expect she’s always been looking for love since, just like the rest of us but I doubt she’ll find it with this Cimla.’
    He sighed. ‘I’d better see to the fires, can’t let them die down or the pots will be spoiled. Better give the boys some food, too.’ He paused, a sad smile on his lined face. ‘Look, Llinos, don’t let life get you down. You’ll win through, you got the right