‘First of all you tell me what’s been happening with you. Have you seen the doctor this week?’

Briony sighed and began telling him everything he wanted to know. Tommy relaxed on the bench and watched her tiny rosebud mouth. He could listen to her and watch her all day. They chatted until her cab driver came for her and then, after promising to see him the following day, Briony went off. Tommy watched her go. As she reached the park exit she turned and waved and he waved back, feeling low now she had gone. They had met nearly every day for over three months. In that time he had felt a closeness spring between them that was not just friendship. He found himself thinking about her at odd times of the day and the evenings. He would not call what he felt for her love, because in his youth he wasn’t sure what love was.

But whatever it was he felt for Briony, with her little button nose and that crackling red hair, he liked it.

He liked it, and he wanted to keep it.

Isabel was staying in her own home tonight. She made a point of staying two nights a week, eating dinner, seeing to her household bills, ordering the different cuts of meat and overseeing the general upkeep. The rest of the time she stayed with Briony.

As she sat in her room, she brushed out her long brown hair and was delighted to see the firelight pick out golden highlights. Her skin looked creamy in the triple mirrors on her dressing table and she smiled at herself. Since the night she had rescued Briony Cavanagh, her life had taken on a different slant. Her depression had lifted, and even the thought of being married to Henry didn’t stop her from enjoying herself. Briony had given her a new zest for living, and now she was certain to get the child, she couldn’t be happier.

She glanced at her heavy breasts in the mirror. Their rosy nipples peeping out from behind the thin lace brought a momentary return of her old longings. She quickly pushed these thoughts from her mind, concentrating once more on the coming child. She hoped it looked like its mother. That way she could guarantee it would be a beautiful child. If it looked like Henry and it was a girl child... She picked up her hand cream and began the laborious nightly ritual of softening her hands.

Henry walked in the room without knocking.

Isabel looked at his red face in the dressing-table mirror and saw at once he had been drinking.

‘What can I do for you?’