By now everybody around the table was listening to their exchange, some trying to hide their smiles behind their hands as Sybil, put on the spot by Irene’s bluntness, replied in a voice that could have shattered crystal, ‘I’m not entirely sure.’

Bursting out laughing, Irene did a perfect imitation of Sybil. ‘Oooh, you’re not entirely sure!’ she mocked.

Now annoyed by the girl’s rudeness, Sybil concentrated on buttering her toast and drinking her tea, the uncomfortable silence broken by Mavis, the girl on Sybil’s other side, quietly offering her some jam.

‘Thank you,’ Sybil smiled. ‘That would be nice, thank you.’

Clearly trying to make conversation, poor Mavis struggled on. ‘How was your journey here?’ she politely asked.

Knowing that everybody in the room was listening to them, Sybil answered in a rather high voice. ‘It took hours, and the train was full of soldiers.’

Again, Sybil was aware of hidden smiles and little nudges as the residents reacted to her responses. Quickly finishing her tea, she reached down to pick up her rather expensive crocodile-skin handbag. ‘Excuse me,’ she said curtly, as she made to leave the room.

‘Where might you be off to?’ Irene called after Sybil. ‘We’ve all got our morning jobs to do, no exceptions,’ she added pointedly.

Not having a clue what the girl was talking about, Sybil exited the room and then, with a low groan, closed the door behind her.

‘God …’ she murmured. ‘What have I let myself in for?’

Mary Vale’s daily chores were essential to the working of the Home. Whether residents paid their way or not, they were expected to be on the cleaning rota, which was pinned up every week in the dining room. Because Sybil was so weary on her arrival, she hardly took in the information that Ada had passed on to her; as a consequence, she had no idea that the Home’s rota system existed. When Sybil didn’t turn up to commence her work, which was usually done by the residents in pairs, she received a gentle knock on her bedroom door.

Sybil, who was lying down and reading a magazine, was momentarily startled. ‘Come in,’ she called.

Smiling self-consciously, Mavis creaked open the door. ‘You’re on cleaning duty with me this week.’

‘Cleaning?’ Sybil spoke as if it were a dirty word.

‘It don’t take long, a couple of hours, then you’re free for the afternoon, unless you fancy attending Sister Ada’s relaxation classes,’ Mavis explained.

Sounding like a parrot, Sybil couldn’t stop herself from repeating Mavis’s words. ‘Classes?’

‘Aye, Sister Ada says they’re right good at relaxing you, especially when it comes to giving birth – she’s a proper good teacher. Now that she’s pregnant herself, she joins in and does all the exercises with us.’

‘God spare me the detail,’ Sybil thought to herself.