Finetta closed the door behind her, and Enid relaxed a little. She poured herself another cup of tea; this one a little tepid and a little strong, but it would do. Here she was, on her own at the table again: same old room, same old second cup of tea while the mantel clock ticked. Every day was like this – a long drag into the unknown that turned out to be familiar and relentless. She’d started going to the Chelsea Arts Club to fill the time – at least everyone there seemed as misfit as her. No one took any notice of a lone woman with a book in the garden, and exhibitions were so packed with extraordinary-looking people that Enid felt quite plain. She wasn’t, of course. Even now, even ageing, someone would stop her and say you must sit for me, you have such eyes, or some such thing. She hadn’t said yes to anyone yet. It felt too carefree a thing to do when it was all she could manage to stay upright each day. She had to save her concentration for the silent teas and endless suppers – more than once she’d gone to bed and left Peel to it, kitchen and everything. What had she done with the children before? She couldn’t remember. She’d had Everett and Mary, a villa, a husband who came and went and a family somewhere, silent but behind her.

Life at Cherry Trees looked strange now. A comfort, a glow, soft days and ham hock bubbling in the kitchen; a life of rarely getting dressed, of occasional doctors come to check on her, occasional rows with Douglas and bleak promises to get up. None of the roar and dirt of London; none of the dark, narrow corridors and dark, narrow stairs of a tall house in Fulham. No sense that any child was waiting for her. In this house she couldn’t escape the feeling that they knew she was there, in the next room or downstairs, that they held their breath when she came upon them, that they only half played. What did other mothers do? Perhaps she should send them to school. But Ian was too young, and Finetta had already learnt to read and write – that was clear from her notes. Joan must have taught her.