Hiding in the shadows of the curtains, Rosie’s skin crept as she listened to the Brigadier assuring Matron that he was on her side.

‘Fighting the good cause,’ he boomed.

Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw the Brigadier extend an arm to Sybil. My God, she had seen that look of lascivious lust on the man’s face many times before – the look he kept for his special ladies, of which unfortunately she had met many at Dowry House.

‘She was definitely scraping the barrel if she had any dealings with him,’ Rosie thought. ‘Randy old bugger – he’d chase anything in a skirt.’

Peeping through a crack in the curtains, Rosie waited until the Brigadier and Sybil had exited the building, then, sighing with relief, she slipped out of her hiding place, stepping right in front of Ada on her way to the kitchen.

‘Heavens, Rosie,’ Ada cried. ‘You gave me a fright.’

Looking awkward, Rosie gave an embarrassed shrug. ‘I was avoiding Miss Harwood’s gentleman visitor,’ she mumbled.

‘Would that be Brigadier Baldwin?’ Ada enquired. ‘Somebody mentioned they had seen him arrive.’

Rosie gave another embarrassed shrug.

‘Do you know him?’ Ada enquired.

‘Knew him,’ Rosie stressed. ‘I worked for his wife, Lady Veronica Baldwin.’

Surprised by this very unexpected information, Ada smiled. ‘Lady Veronica – sounds very glamorous.’

‘You wouldn’t believe it to look at me now, but I was once a lady’s maid in Knightsbridge,’ Rosie said with an unexpected ring in her voice. ‘It was the best time of my life; Lady Veronica was a lovely woman, way too good for him – the Brigadier,’ she finished with a sneer. Then, suddenly nervous, suspecting that she had said too much to a member of staff, who, for all she knew, might approve of the Brigadier, Rosie dashed towards the open front door.

‘I’d better see what the children are up to,’ she cried over her shoulder.

Standing watching her go, Ada frowned – why was Rosie hiding from the Brigadier, and what on earth could he have done that made her clearly dislike him so much?

10. The Smugglers’ Inn

Monty swaggered into the Smugglers’ Inn, Grange’s smartest hotel, which overlooked the esplanade, in high spirits. Good food, good beer and a pretty woman were the ticket tonight, but when he looked at his ex-lover her former seductive witch-green eyes looked edgy and her skin, which used to be so luscious and creamy, was pale and spotty. Disappointed, Monty’s beady little eyes wandered around the bar admiring one buxom waitress after another, until he finally locked eyes with the blowsiest, who approached their table for their order. As Monty ordered a pint for himself and a glass of lemonade for Sybil, she warily watched him flirting with the fulsome waitress, trying to keep her emotions under control. The minute they were left alone, she snuggled up to Monty, purring, ‘Darling, it’s been ages.’