As she turned the pram around and set off for home, Ada’s eyes came to rest on the distant fells, now hazy gold in the summer heat. Standing still for a moment, she imagined the numerous sheep paths zigzagging up the hillsides dotted with ancient cairns, guiding fell-walkers safely on their way. Tracks would give way to crags and hollows, deep and cool even in the summer sun; she could see in her mind’s eye banks of gorse, heather and bracken, falling steeply to roaring waterfalls and black slate gorges brimming with pure spring water. She remembered one such spot, Black Moor Pot, where she and Jamie after a strenuous walk over the Borrowdale Fells had stripped off and jumped into the deep rocky pool, whose icy-cold waters had stung their white bodies. Shivering and giggling, they had clambered out and flopped naked on to the grass, where the scorching sun had baked them dry. Memories of their happiness flooded back to Ada in a sweet rush which she hugged to herself. These precious moments she had shared with Jamie formed their past, precious memories of their love that she would cherish forever and that she would take to the grave.

47. Triumph

Back at the Home, the event Sybil had been longing for over so many months – walking out of Mary Vale without a backward glance – was now looming large. It was also proving to be an increasingly painful one because of Sally and Ronnie, whom Sybil loved more with every passing day.

One fine summer morning she was horrified to find Rosie sitting on a bench in the garden sobbing her heart out. Hurrying to sit down beside her distraught friend, Sybil exclaimed, ‘Darling! What on earth has happened? Have you had more news?’

Rosie gulped. ‘No, it’s not that …’ Racked with sobs, she couldn’t continue; when she finally regained her composure, she gazed up at Sybil with her dark eyes full of tears. ‘I just can’t bear the thought of you leaving us; we’ll be bereft without you; me and the kids have grown to love and need you so much.’

The thought of leaving Sally and Ronnie, two kiddies who only months ago she would have happily handed into police custody, brought tears rushing into Sybil’s witch-green eyes too. How could this emotional metamorphosis have come about? Now Sybil enjoyed every minute she spent with the children: walking, fishing, hunting in rock pools, skimming pebbles over the ocean at sunset; this afternoon they were all looking forward to going swimming together, then having ice-creams (albeit made from evaporated milk and flour) on the beach.