‘I don’t think you had much choice, did you?’ Ada enquired.

‘S’pose not,’ Rosie answered with a resigned shrug. ‘One thing’s for sure, we’re not popular, wherever we go.’

12. Feeling Broody

Ada thoughtfully suggested to Sister Ann that her replacement should have one of the guest rooms in Mary Vale House.

‘I have never minded being in the convent,’ she told Sister Ann as they walked upstairs to the Home’s guest rooms. ‘In fact, I loved the cool quietness of my little cell room there, but it might not be to everybody’s taste.’

‘A private room might suit Miss Mann more,’ Sister Ann agreed. ‘But,’ she added as her eyes swept around the room, ‘they are a bit on the shabby side.’

‘Shabby, but clean and with good views down the valley,’ Ada pointed out.

Sister Ann gave a heavy sigh. ‘If I’m honest, I must confess to feeling a bit nervous; I’m so used to working alongside you, dearest Ada – we will all miss you so much.’

Though edgy too, Ada nevertheless stayed calm. ‘We’re a tight little team,’ she agreed. ‘Look how devastated we all were when Dora lost her sons and left Mary Vale for a while. But my going isn’t permanent, Ann, I’ll be back before you know it.’

Feeling slightly ashamed of her outburst, Sister Ann moved on to less emotional territory. Glancing around the rather stark guest room, she murmured, ‘I’ll make sure there are plenty of fresh flowers in here to welcome Miss Mann.’

Ada answered brightly, ‘Good idea – that should cheer the place up.’

Overjoyed at the thought of taking possession of Mary Vale Cottage, Ada couldn’t wait until the official handover date to move in. At the earliest opportunity, when she had a break in her shifts, with a briefcase in one hand and a suitcase in the other, she made her way down the farm track to the cottage. Hurrying up the stairs to the baby’s room, Ada smiled to herself as she stood in the doorway, inhaling the combined smell of fresh paint and lavender furniture polish. Darling Sister Theresa had kept her promise: the room, now painted a soft, pale, primrose colour, glowed warmly and the pretty lined patchwork curtains Theresa and Sister Mary Paul had made added a childish gaiety to the place. Dora’s gift stood in the corner – an old cot she had bought at a local jumble sale for two shillings and sixpence. Washed and sanitized in readiness for the new arrival, Dora had also left on the little chest of drawers, also painted a soft primrose colour, a supply of baby linen and winceyette blankets that she had borrowed from the hospital storage cupboard.

Seeing the room bathed in the luminous golden light of the now setting sun, Ada’s heart contracted with a mixture of love and excitement.