I could see I was on a losing wicket with Lisa. I may have been fresh out of training with all the ideals and regimens of Truby King fresh in my mind, but in the end I couldn’t force anyone. I had more luck with my middle-class ladies who’d read the childcare books and took it all very seriously, but then some of them got rather over-concerned and nervy about it all.

‘Cuppa tea?’ Lisa asked, jumping up. ‘While I’ve still got my ’ands free?’ I was warmed by her hospitable ways, the enthusiasm with which she had greeted me when I arrived. My delivering her baby had formed a bond between us.

‘That would be lovely. I’ve got a few minutes to spare,’ I said. ‘And I missed my morning break today.’

Several mornings of the week we Health Visitors made our way into the middle of town to attend to our patient records which were housed in the majestic Town Hall. As often as not we’d stay on for coffee and cakes afterwards, but I hadn’t been this morning.

Lisa shuffled round in her slippers on the grimy brick floor, then planted her round behind on the chair across the table from me, much as we had sat when we first met as children. She stirred her tea and looked anxiously round the room. There were unwashed plates and cutlery on the table, a pile of dirty washing in one corner and a bucket of nappies with a stick poking out from it. On the range stood two badly stained pans.

‘Sorry the place is in such a mess,’ she said. ‘Usually is, I’m afraid.’

As she took a sip of tea a high mewling sound came from the drawer. Lisa rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. Wouldn’t you know it?’

‘What a plaintive noise.’

‘Just like a little cat, int she?’ She picked up the baby, whose face wore an expression of outrage, and lifted the edge of her blouse just enough to attach the baby to her swollen breast. The child’s body was so small she could cradle it on one arm. She drank, making tiny squeaking noises. Lisa was one of those mothers who made me feel redundant. Despite the chaotic look to her house she exuded an air of competence. Nothing I might say would make much difference to her. I watched her with admiration, sipping her tea with one hand, cigarette burning on a saucer, the baby balanced on the other arm and a patch of damp darkening the material of her blouse over her other breast. There was something comforting about her.

‘Where are your other three?’ I asked.

‘Two. Asleep.’

‘But that woman – Sandy – said Daisy was your fourth.’

‘We lost the first one.’ Her voice was clipped ‘Stillborn. ’E were a lad and all. Terrible it was. Don took it even worse than me. ’E cried. Never seen ’im cry other than that.’

‘I’m sorry, Lisa.’ I hesitated. ‘Where is Don – the army?’