She sank onto the bench, crushed by the enormity of all that had passed in the last weeks and months. She had read somewhere that a drowning person saw their life pass before them just before they perished. Hers played backwards in her head now, as if she were rifling through a series of pictures in a photograph album: standing on deck with her hair blowing in the wind as her homeland receded; posing with the other bridesmaids at the royal wedding; saying goodbye to Mama and Louise; saying goodbye to Molly; parting ways with Sebastian; the confrontation with her father; Sebastian proposing; her first meeting with him way back in February; her return to London at the start of the year and her resolution then to marry Killin. All of that, in the space of just over six months.

Dropping her face into her hands, she surrendered to her grief, letting her tears trickle through her fingers, making no attempt to quiet her sobs. She cried for the loss of her friendship with Susannah and the camaraderie of the days spent with the Lambeth ladies. She cried for the pain and the worry she had caused Mama, and the rift she had created between her parents. She cried for Louise, her best friend, who had retreated into silence at a time when they needed each other more than anything. She cried for the loss of her sisters, whom she had never really known or appreciated, and now would not. She cried for Sebastian, whose face was already growing hazy in her memory and who seemed now more like a figment of her imagination than the man she had once dreamed of marrying.

But most of all she cried because she had never felt so completely alone and so utterly wretched. She had spent her life trying to mould herself into the unquestioning daughter her father wanted her to be. Having failed to meekly obey and having compounded her felony by challenging his decisions, she was going to have to come to terms with the fact that nothing would alter his jaundiced opinion of her.

Mama, however, was another matter. Mama had been forced to write to her own daughter in secret, flouting her husband’s authority, and for that, too, Margaret was responsible. She was racked with guilt, thinking of how often she had questioned Mama’s love over the years without realizing that she was also a victim of dutiful obedience.

You are much missed, Mama had written. I pray you do not forget that.

Her head was thumping. Rubbing her eyes with her sleeve, Margaret gave herself a shake. Rather than continually berating herself over the mistakes she had made, what she needed to do was learn from them. Easier said than done, but it wasn’t as if she was short on time! Aoife whined, licking her salty fingers before giving a sharp, welcoming bark. With a sinking heart, Margaret spied Julia coming towards her.