Rose could hardly remember walking back to the cottage, dazed as she was by her grief and her anxiety about what Elijah would make of the situation. Still, she had the presence of mind to look around before they entered. It was a quieter area of town. She didn’t see anyone she knew in the streets. No gossip-prone neighbours peeping out through curtains either. They were safe.

She took the handkerchief in exchange for her basket and dropped down into a kitchen chair, shaking her head a Elijah began to speak. “No, please, he hasn’t done any… Tea would be lovely,” she gave in exasperated. It was probably better if Elijah made it. It was bad enough that her poor kitchen skills had driven one man away.

“He hasn’t done anything…” she tried again quietly. “It’s rather what he doesn’t do… He keeps away from me. He comes home late, says he’ll eat something at the bakery. Says he wants to work hard to provide for me…” He lip trembled and her voice changed pitch: “But he’s not being honest. He can’t look at me properly. He…” She couldn’t tell Elijah about how he wouldn’t touch her. “He seems to avoid me in every possible way. But when I ask him if something’s wrong, he denies it. I know he’s lying… I think he doesn’t love me anymore, and I think it’s because I’ve been a bad wife!” Those last words came out with a sob.