Rachaela had to wrack her brains. Liz was one of the daughters, the eldest.

‘Liz,’ she prompted.

‘She’s sent me an extraordinary letter. She hardly ever writes, and now this. It’s wonderful, but she’s got herself into a state. She’s found she’s pregnant again. Not planned—she’s thirty-six. She wants to go ahead but she’s afraid she can’t manage. And apparently Brian has suggested I move in with them. There’s a large room with en-suite bath I can have, and Brian says he’ll fix me up a kitchenette. It’s a lovely house. I haven’t seen it for years, of course, but they built a big extension. The garden’s marvellous, like something from a show place...It’s just bowled me over. Cheltenham! She says she needs me. I remember the last time, she got so big. And of course she’ll have to have these wretched tests to be sure the baby’s all right.’

Rachaela took in Emma’s sprinting words belatedly, hearing each sentence over again in her head.

‘But haven’t they neglected you?’ she said.

‘No. Never. They’ve got their own lives to lead. And I can cope beautifully. My independent streak.’ Emma shone. ‘But she’s my daughter. I can’t leave her in the lurch.’

Rachaela stood in the window, the white snow behind her, feeling the weighted floor falling out of everything in slow motion.

‘So you’ll go.’

‘I must.’

‘And how long will you be gone?’

‘Well, I rather think it’s a permanent arrangement. After all, once the baby’s born, a baby-sitter is going to be useful. They’ve got to be able to have a break. And as Brian points out, well, at my age a little security might be reassuring. It’s a fabulous chance. I can’t sit back and let Liz get on with it.’

Liz has let you get on with it.

Pointless to voice the selfishness of others, it was her own selfishness which was about to suffer.

Rachaela said, ‘Have you told Ruth?’

Emma looked crestfallen through her shine, ‘No. I haven’t had the courage. And I wanted to tell you first. She’s amazing for her age. I’m sure she’ll understand. She’s fond of me, she’ll be glad for me.’

‘She loves you,’ said Rachaela.

Emma squared her shoulders.

It’s probably the best thing, Rachaela. You and she need to spend more time together.’

‘Well, we’ll certainly have to do that.’

‘Oh, dear,’ said Emma. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

For once her tone was insincere. She knew quite well.

Compared to her own flesh and blood, what was Ruth? Only a substitute. Now here was the real thing.

Swept aside.

Rachaela felt a bitter pity for her daughter, this blow about to fall like an axe.