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could help her out if she’s short, but she bought shoes and boots with the money I sent and she has them in the cupboard. She told Sam they were for Sunday, but today was Sunday and all I saw was bare feet.’
    ‘What about her mother, Rose? Is that the trouble?’
    ‘Her mother died some years ago, but she has two sisters. They’re both older, but neither are married. She seems fond of them. Certainly she’s always going up to see them when Sam’s at home.’
    Selina paused and put down the china cups she was holding.
    ‘Poor Rose,’ she said smiling. ‘Thomas has always said how kind you were to him and how good you were to your own wee ones. It’ll be hard for you. But there’s nothing you can do,’ she said, shaking her head sadly. ‘Sam’s not chosen well, any more than I think our Robert has.’
    ‘Oh Selina, I wondered you didn’t mention him. He’s been married four or five years now, hasn’t he?’
    ‘Indeed he has. And I did my best to like the girl, but from the first day I met her she had something to complain about. Though in those days she madea joke of it,’ she added wryly, as she filled the sugar bowl from a jar she took out of the corner cupboard. ‘Well, it’s no joke now. When Robert comes down from Church Hill to see us, I think it’s the only peace and quiet he gets.’
    ‘So what do we do to help them?’
    ‘There’s nothing we
can
do, Rose,’ she replied steadily. ‘They have to make their own lives and their own mistakes. Hard as it is, we have to stand out of the way until such time as something might change.’
    Rose looked across the table at the older woman and knew she was thinking of her dear Thomas and the loneliness he’d suffered when he was married to Mary-Anne. She nodded and agreed. It was something her own mother had always said, interference only made things worse.
    The fire burnt up and the kettle began to sing just as John came back indoors after putting the tarpaulin cover over the motor.
    ‘Cup of tea, John?’
    ‘Aye, that would be great. I think we might have a frost.’
    As she made the tea, Rose reflected that the prospect of either their Sam or young Robert Scott having a second chance to find happiness was remote indeed.

CHAPTER THREE
    Rose put down her pen, rubbed her neck, stretched her shoulders and then read through her reply to her elder daughter’s most recent letter.
    12th April, 1912
     
    My dearest Hannah,
    Your long letter was much appreciated. Please don’t apologise for the delay. If you’ve had workmen and decorators in your new London home, I’m amazed you can find a quiet moment at all, especially with both the boys on holiday from school and the two little ones becoming less little by the day.
    Yes, we are well, though I must confess Hugh’s loss still lies heavy. Your father misses him desperately, so I can’t imagine
how it must be for Sarah. She works very hard and does much of what Hugh used to do, running the mills. She and Da are concerned just now that the work on the new machinery is going forward so slowly. Da complains a pair of dungarees lasts him a couple of weeks instead of a couple of days, because he’s wearing a suit so much more of the time, attending meetings about the future of the mills.
    I had a very long letter from Uncle Sam in America last week and it brought wonderful news. In fact, it’s such good news I don’t think I’ve quite grasped it yet. He means to stay here in Ireland permanently. He’d planned to go back this week, first class on ‘the big ship’, as everyone here calls her, and he sounded very excited about his plan, but a month ago he bought a farm in Donegal not far from Aunt Mary and her family and not far either from where he was born, though, of course, he was a tiny baby when he left Ardtur.
    Do you remember, Hannah, when Sarah was little she kept asking for the story about the baby and the turf cart? I used to wonder then if she realised it was a memory of my childhood and