‘I can’t believe we are travelling to Leeds together, James, and that your wife knows and doesn’t suspect a thing.’ Madge giggled and looked at her employer, and the man she had made it her business to fall in love with.

‘Ssshh! Keep your voice down. Nearly everyone knows me on this train, as I make this journey regularly. Anyway you’ve to meet the manager at Queens Arcade, and I have a full morning of photography. The afternoon, however, will be ours to spend as we please, and I can think of lots of ways to pass an hour or two.’ James winked at the young blonde-haired woman with cupid-bow lips and come-to-bed eyes, and couldn’t believe that someone her age would possibly look at a middle-aged man with greying hair. A slight pang of guilt caught him by surprise when he thought of Isabelle, hard at work in the main store at Skipton; but he shook it off as Madge smiled at him in such a seductive way that all thoughts of guilt were banished. If only Isabelle would look at him that way and have time for him, instead of being hardheaded and caught up in her work. It was always the children, Atkinson’s or Windfell; there was no time in Isabelle’s life for him. Or at least that was how it felt.

This afternoon he would enjoy his time with Madge, who showed him quite openly the love he craved. He’d booked a room at the new Queens Hotel at the station, which wasn’t out of the ordinary, as he had stayed there in the recent past when he was needed for more than one day in the studio at Leeds. He was going to make the most of his day with the alluring Madge, and no one need be any the wiser. He smiled as his new flame looked out of the window at the passing countryside. The afternoon could not come soon enough – a bottle of champagne and a nice double bed were already calling him away from his work.

Nearly a week had passed since James and Madge had shared an afternoon of illicit passion together, and Madge was beginning to wonder about the true reason for Isabelle’s invitation for Harriet and her family to visit Atkinson’s.

‘What’s Harriet like? Is she like your wife?’ Madge looked out of the window of the photographic studio down onto the busy High Street of Skipton, while quizzing James about the impending visit of his sister-in-law and her family.

‘Oh Lord, no! She’s anything but. Harriet is very maternal – her family is everything to her. She’s not material in the least.’ He looked across at the woman he was besotted with, as he made ready for the Atkinson family photograph. ‘Why do you ask?’