Like a caged animal, Sybil had grudgingly resigned herself to her fate, but even as she accepted the changes she was undergoing physically, her mind grew sharper and more vindictive. Like a spider in its web, Sybil had plenty of time to think of how she would wreak her revenge on Monty for what he had done to her. She had no choice but to endure what lay ahead, but, exiled as she was, she at least had time to concoct malevolent schemes to bring Monty to his knees; wicked pleasures in the long drab days of her pregnancy.

With her head buzzing, Sybil was hardly aware that the residents in collusion with the nuns were planning a surprise farewell tea-party for Sister Ada. Sister Mary Paul had baked scones, which she planned to serve with damson jam made from last year’s fruit crop, along with a scraping of Farmer Arkwright’s creamy best butter. While Ada was busy on the wards, the giggling residents decorated the dining room with bowls of fresh garden flowers and colourful bunting. Delighted with their efforts, the residents waited excitedly for their guest of honour to arrive. There was just one fly in the ointment, in that Ronnie and Sally arrived home from school before Ada had finished her shift. Having spent all afternoon on the shameful dunce’s chair in the schoolroom, Ronnie barged into the dining room like a bear with a sore head. Seeing him crashing around, Sybil raised her eyes to heaven: why in God’s name did nobody land him a hefty whack and send him off to bed for the entire evening? Much to everybody’s relief, Rosie managed to coax her bad-tempered son and whimpering daughter into the garden, but Ronnie, furious that yet again he was being excluded from events, tore back into the dining room and wilfully ripped down all the bunting and hurled half of the flowers (arranged in vases on the sills) out of the window – and just at the very point at which Ada, with a happy expectant smile on her face, came sailing into the room. Seeing the entire Pickles family screaming and swearing at each other, Ada typically put their needs first.

‘Let’s have tea,’ she said, taking charge of the scones and jam, which immediately assuaged Ronnie’s fury, but the boy’s outrageous behaviour still left most of the residents feeling resentful and angry.

‘Brat!’ Sybil seethed loudly.

At the first available moment Rosie herded her bothersome children out of the room, but the happy, anticipatory mood had been spoilt by Ronnie’s acts of wanton destruction. Sister Theresa busily set the vases that weren’t smashed to rights, while a couple of the girls tried to rehang the bunting, which dangled rather forlornly from the cornices of the room.