Settling her onto the couch, she kept hold of her bony hand. ‘How did you find me, Amah?’

‘Sahib Reilly told me you were here. He gave me the umbrella and money for rickshaw.’

‘Thank goodness he did,’ breathed Sybil. ‘You couldn’t possibly walk this far in such awful weather.’ She paused, noting how exhausted Amah looked. ‘I’ll make us some tea,’ she said. ‘There’s a bathroom through there with plenty of towels if you want to dry off or wash.’

Amah dipped her chin, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘I am sorry I come to you like this, Mem. The shame of you seeing me this way breaks my heart. I should go.’

‘You’re not going anywhere, Amah,’ replied Sybil, gently pressing her back down into the cushions. ‘You looked after me and my girls with such love and care, and now it’s my turn to help you. Sit there and rest while I make tea, and then you can tell me what happened to you after we left.’

Sybil dashed into the kitchen and fidgeted with impatience as the kettle seemed to take an age to boil. She blinked back her tears. It had come as a terrible shock to see the woman she’d come to love and trust over many years in such an awful state. She’d always had long, thick white hair twisted into a plait that hung to her waist, and her face had been smooth and serene, her movements as supple and graceful as those of a much younger woman. Now she was aged almost beyond recognition, bowed and bent, and so thin she was almost skeletal – and her feet – oh, dear God, her poor feet. What had this war done to her?

Sybil dashed away her tears knowing they would only humiliate Amah further – but what must it have taken for her to bury her pride and turn up here looking for help? Not that she would ever ask for it, but it was clear it was what she desperately needed. Hunting out some biscuits, she made the tea and carried it all on a tray into the sitting room.

Amah was curled into the cushions of the couch, fast asleep, her feet tucked into the folds of her bedraggled, mud-stained sari.

Sybil’s heart ached as she quietly placed the tray on the table and sat in the chair opposite. This was the woman who’d massaged her back and combed her hair when she was feeling out of sorts or suffering with one of her pregnancies. This was the loving, patient little guardian of her babies, and the wise, gentle counsellor who’d always known how to soothe Jane’s tantrums and Sarah’s worries. The girls adored her, and so did Sybil – and even Jock regarded her as a much loved and respected member of the family.

They’d all been heartbroken to have to leave her behind, but the ship’s captain had refused to let her on board, and the last sighting Sybil had had of her was on the docks waving goodbye before she left Jock’s side and melted into the crowds.