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with the scent of warm grass, and there was the unmistakeable tang of salt from the sea only half a mile away across the chalk downs. It was a new dawn and a new day. Nothing could take away the pain of loss, but the feeling of grief was tempered by the knowledge that her mother’s suffering was over. Ma might be gone, but Elsie could still feel her love enveloping her like a warm blanket, and no matter what the future held, nothing could take that away: Ma would live in her heart forever, and she must do her best to make her proud. She caught a sudden waft of her mother’s favourite cologne and she felt her presence even though she could not see her.
    She walked slowly to the pump and worked the handle; water spurted out, creating a rainbow, and she stuck her head beneath the ice-cold stream. She straightened up, shaking the droplets from her long hair. Acting on a sudden impulse she hurried back into the house and searched the dresser drawer until she found a pair of scissors. If this was to be a new beginning then she would be one of the emancipated women who were going to help run the country in time of war.
    She took one tress at a time and snipped through her wet locks until she had created a semblance of the bob she had styled for Marianne. She seized a towel and roughly dried her hair, feeling suddenly light-headed and free, but there was something else she still had to face.
    She went slowly up the stairs to her mother’s room. It remained just as it must have been when Ma had left it, frozen in time like a still life. The bed was unmade and the medicine bottle, glass and jug of water were on the table. The sickly scent of illness pervaded the atmosphere and Elsie moved swiftly to open the window. Her mother’s brush and comb lay on the pine chest together with the faded photograph of Elsie’s father, standing proud in his army uniform. She ran the comb through her rapidly drying hair which had already begun to curl wildly, and she stared critically at the result in the fly-spotted mirror. With several snips of the scissors she evened off the ragged ends, and nodded to herself, acknowledging her work. ‘I’ll make you proud of me, Ma, and that’s a promise I intend to keep.’
    When Elsie walked into the kitchen at Darcy Hall there was an awkward silence. Mrs Coker offered her condolences in a brusque, slightly embarrassed manner. ‘Monique will be missed,’ she murmured, casting a critical eye over Elsie’s new hairstyle. ‘Put your cap on. This is no time for frivolity.’ She returned to kneading the bread dough with renewed vigour. Phyllis and Nancy were over-effusive and hugged Elsie, but if they had any opinions as to her short hair they kept them to themselves. The rest of the servants muttered words of sympathy and then hurried off to go about their duties as if nothing had happened.
    Later that morning, after luncheon had been served and cleared away, Mrs Tranter made a special point of taking Elsie aside and telling her that the job was hers for as long as she needed it. It did not seem appropriate to mention the fact that she would be leaving as soon as she was able to find work elsewhere. In the meantime there were funeral arrangements to be made, although Elsie had no idea how she would raise the money to pay for such a solemn event. She went about her duties in a haze, finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate her thoughts.
    When the last dish was washed, dried and put away Mrs Coker waited until everyone, with the exception of Elsie, had hurried off to enjoy their brief period of free time. ‘Mrs Tranter agrees with me that you should have the rest of the day off. There must be arrangements to be made and that sort of thing.’ She hesitated, staring at a point somewhere above Elsie’s head. ‘It’s a difficult time for you, I know.’ She cleared her throat noisily and patted Elsie on the shoulder. ‘I’ll see