Briony shook her head and Isabel settled the boy once more in his carriage and stood up.

‘I really have to be going. I’ll be in touch soon.’

Briony nodded weakly as she watched her son being pushed away from her. Her eyes blurred as tears stung them and she stared after Isabel and the child until they disappeared out of the park gates.

Molly was force-feeding Rosalee when Briony arrived. Rosalee was going through one of her not-eating phases. She swung between a state of constant hunger and one of not eating a scrap. Either way she still got heavier and heavier. Briony walked in the door and, kissing Rosalee’s face, took the spoon from her mother and began to feed her sister. Molly watched as Rosalee ate every morsel Briony gave to her.

‘You’ve certainly got a way with her, Bri. I wish to God I had it.’

Molly poured out two mugs of tea as Briony finished feeding Rosalee, then, taking off her hat, perched it on Rosalee’s head and grinned at her.

Rosalee, looking ridiculous in the lilac confection, grinned back, saying her only words, ‘Bri Bri’ and clapping her hands together.

Molly tried to grab the hat off Rosalee’s head but Briony stayed her hand.

‘Oh, leave her alone, Mum, it’s only a hat.’

‘A hat that cost a small fortune.’

‘So what? I don’t mind, and it’s my hat, so why should you care?’

Molly sipped her steaming tea and shook her head.

‘I just saw Benedict. Isabel and Henry are moving up West with him. I think the days of letting me see him are numbered.’

Molly put a hand over her daughter’s and said, ‘Well, what did you expect, love? They won’t want you around now, will they? And it’s better for the boy.’

‘But I’m his mother, Mum. Me, not her!’

‘I know that. But, Briony love, he’s better off where he is and you must accept that. He’s their child now. Theirs. Not yours. You just try and remember that this way he will have everything he ever wants out of life.’

Briony nodded. She knew that what her mother said made sense, but when you loved someone as she loved Benedict, it didn’t make any difference.

‘That Kerry is getting to be a handful, Briony. She was caught singing in the pub again. I’ve scalped the arse off of her but it’s no good.’

Kerry, now twelve, was uncontrollable. She would sing in a midden if someone would listen.

‘Where is she now?’

‘She’s out with Bernie and Mother Jones. They’re pea picking.’

Briony was glad of the change in the conversation. She knew that her mother was all for Benedict being with the Dumases and it would only cause more rows if they discussed it further.

‘Pea picking? Well, she can sing to her heart’s content there.’