At half past three when the oven was full she went into the garden to fetch in the washing. She saw Ursula Ottway drive along the road from the dam and turn up the track to Back Rigg. Marie waved at her but Ursula did not respond. Marie was not surprised. Since Fred had died the old woman had become more eccentric and isolated. Besides, she would have been out to Appleworth to do her shopping and that always upset her.

On the way back to the house she stopped, setting the heavy basket of washing on the grass, to shut the outhouse door. The wind had caught it and it was banging. The outhouse was stone built, part of the cottage. Vic should clear that place out, she thought. Most of the stuff inside had been there since before they were married and he never used it now. There were snares and traps, long since illegal, and on a shelf at one end dusty glass bottles which probably contained poison, the labels faded so they were illegible. He should keep it locked, she thought, briefly, and went back into the kitchen, wiping her shoes carefully before she went in. She piled the crockery on the draining board ready for washing then made a cup of tea and waited for the ambulance to bring Cassie home.

Cassie had been a surprise, a gift out of the blue. Marie had always wanted children but the years passed and no babies came. The doctors could give them no adequate reason. Then there had been Cassie. They had known from the beginning that she was brain damaged but by then Marie was so desperate for a child that she was grateful even for the chance to hold the baby in her arms.

‘Are you sure you can manage her?’ Vic had asked anxiously. Perhaps he was afraid she would have no time left for him.

‘Of course I can manage her,’ Marie had said. She was almost pleased to hear that Cassie would be dependent on her for ever. It meant that she would never lose her. The decision to let the girl go away to the special school in Appleworth when she was twelve was the hardest she had ever taken. Vic had left the matter to her.

‘You have the care and worry of her,’ he had said. ‘ You’ll know where she’ll be happiest.’

The social worker had spoken about Marie needing a break.

‘You deserve some time to yourself,’ she had said. ‘ You’ve worked wonders with her. No one would have believed that she could progress so well. Now it’s time to think of your own needs.’

It had been impossible for Marie to explain that she had delighted in caring for Cassie. Impossible, too, to say that compared with the effort of giving Vic the confidence to survive in the valley there had been a relief in meeting Cassie’s uncomplicated demands.