Crowther had told her to play down the whole Christian Science fancy, find some other church to take the children to and other friends to meet, ones that were less conspicuous. Those were the words he’d chosen, as if Ruby and her religion stuck out like the sandstone ship off Sloane Street. Other friends? She didn’t have any. The community in Norfolk were the only people she had. She’d taken the children to Didlington Hall three times in the past year and it had been rather jolly, at least for Ruby who’d gone simply mad over both of them, but especially Ian. Enid had kept the details vague when she’d written the first time. Children with me after all. Shall we come for a few days’ visit? If Ruby had had her way they’d have moved in for good; as it was, they’d stayed a week longer than planned. It had been early summer, and Ruby had asked Ian to pick a winner from the runners and riders at the next race meet. He’d picked three in a row. Enid had never seen him so animated. He melted into Ruby as if she was his mother. Ruby had said he must have the most simply marvellous magical powers, and exclaimed she wanted to keep him forever. Enid had replied you’ll have to get past Joan first, and Ruby had touched her arm and smiled her try-to-be-brave smile. As far as Ruby knew now, Joan had started it, which she sort of had if you went back far enough, which Enid did whenever her thoughts threatened to madden her. But anyway, Crowther put a stop to her going to Didlington, advised her to be less conspicuous, so she’d written to Ruby that they’d have to hold fire for a while. She’d found a church in Fulham instead, a normal church full of normal people, where she stuck out instead. Peel wasn’t keen on it either. Peel turned out to be a Seventh Day Adventist, which didn’t help anyone.

Finetta picked up the pot. It was almost as big as her. Not quite, thought Enid, brushing the ridiculous thought away. But Finetta had to hold it with both hands and pour very carefully; it took all her concentration, like the bird book.

“That’s plenty,” said Enid, watching the tea rise in the cup. Finetta put the pot down. “Come and sit. Have a sandwich.”

They sat together, mother and daughter, one playing with the ring on her finger, the other taking a tiny nibble at a sandwich.