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summer. She was angry and snapped and snarled for a while. Beth realised how irrational she could be in her behaviour and stayed out of her way, pleased to have the farmyard to occupy her. She enjoyed the outdoor life at High Fell andlooked forward to her gardening and dairy work while she could. In June, Abel brought his sheep down for shearing and went with the carter to take the fleece to market. The summer was kind and the fells became her friends as she walked the paths and tracks. Her happiness was complete when Edgar sent word to his mother that he would not return to High Fell until Michaelmas, by which time Beth’s size was really slowing her down.
    Beth felt her awkwardness most when she was milking the nannies in the morning. The milking stool was so low. One day she heard a sound in the quiet stillness of the stable.
    ‘Is that you, Mrs Roberts?’ she called.
    It was a dark morning. The clouds were low, enveloping the farm in a dampening drizzle. Then she heard the sheep baa-ing. Surely they had not wandered this close to the farm? But the fells were strange mystical places in the mist and sounds were known to travel across valleys. In spite of her knotted shawl, Beth’s back was chilled and she wished she had donned her cloak to do the milking. Beth’s stomach was so huge she could hardly reach round it for the udder. She grasped a knotted rope on the side of the stall to heave herself to her feet and as she did so felt a twinge in her back. She would have to have help with the farm once the baby was born.
    She grimaced as she bent to pick up the pail of milk, suddenly alert as she heard a shrill whistle and the distant bark of a dog, then the sheep again. They were nearby. She hurried outside and strained her eyes through the mist. Sure enough, the flock was pouring across the lower fell and into one of the fields enclosed by dry-stone walling on the slope behind the farmhouse. She put down her pail and walked in that direction until she saw Abel burdened by a largebackpack, holding open the gate as the sheep streamed through.
    Her heart lifted and she waved. ‘Good morning, Abel.’
    He glanced in her direction and raised his hand. She waited patiently until Sally had herded the flock into the pasture and he had secured the gate.
    ‘It will be a fine day when the mists lift,’ he called as he walked across to the farmyard.
    ‘I hope so,’ she responded. Beth loved the fell and escaped to it as often as she could.
    She was excessively pleased to see Abel and felt cheerful as she waddled towards him. He was the only person on the farm worthy of a conversation and she wanted to throw her arms around his neck to welcome him. His face, she thought, registered a little pleasure, but he always retained the stiff formality that he had assumed when he had first discovered her identity.
    ‘Are you keeping well, madam?’ He held out his elbow. ‘Here, take my arm.’
    She did and felt the hard sinewy muscles as she gripped. ‘Thank you.’ She was breathless from her exertion. ‘I can’t wait for it all to be over. I am so huge, it must be a boy.’
    ‘Maybe,’ Abel replied, looking straight ahead.
    He was a man of few words, Beth knew, unless he had something to say, and she was content for them to walk in silence because it did not feel wrong for him to be here, by her side, supporting her. She had not met many men in her short life but she thought that Abel was by far the kindest. He was gentle and strong at the same time, with all the qualities any woman could want in a husband. If only … She allowed her fantasies to wander until they reached the abandoned pail of milk. Beth let go of his arm and bent topick it up, bringing on another of her back twinges. ‘Oooh,’ she uttered and immediately straightened.
    ‘I’ll take that,’ he said. ‘Surely you should be resting, madam.’
    ‘There’s no one else to see to the farmyard.’
    ‘You mean that, while I have spent the summer on the fell