‘Such a lovely little girl,’ she sighed. ‘And her clothes! The most gorgeous party frocks that you’ve ever seen. I wish my Sally could have seen her expensive clothes; she would have just loved them.’

By Friday, when Sybil was coming to the end of her week working on the wards, she had little to show for all the long-winded conversations she had had with Rosie. Conversations had ranged from Marigold’s toys to the weekly butcher’s bill, the wine list, the gardener’s dismissal for stealing brandy, Lady Veronica’s extensive wardrobe and how often Rosie starched her maid’s uniform. How on earth was she going to get anywhere when she wasn’t daily in Rosie’s company? Sybil realized that if she were to proceed – and she wasn’t giving up now that she had started – she would have to invent reasons to visit Rosie, whom she almost quite liked now that she was removed from her wretched children.

‘I’ll have to engineer excuses to visit her,’ Sybil decided. ‘Drop by with a slice of cake, or a bit of gossip, anything that justifies my turning up at her bedside asking questions.’ Her eyes strayed to the garden. ‘I could pick her a little posy – that would be a nice alibi for popping in for a visit.’

Recalling the wary look of distrust that had flashed across Rosie’s face right at the beginning of their exchange about the Brigadier, Sybil knew she was on to something; there had to be a good reason why downtrodden Rosie had reacted so visibly when Sybil had mentioned his relationship with Lady Veronica. It was perfectly clear that Rosie couldn’t stand the man, but Sybil was hoping for more than that: some dirt, some secret that Rosie might be holding back.

‘It’s just a question of sweet-talking her until I entice the truth out of her,’ Sybil thought hopefully. ‘If Rosie eventually reveals some dark scandalous secret about Monty, it will be well worth the wait.’

24. Confidences

The following week Sybil was on her least favourite chore, laundry duty; working in the laundry was steamy hot and the carbolic soap cracked the skin on her small, delicate hands. Groaning as she hauled big heavy wet sheets out of the boiler, Sybil comforted herself that she would not be doing this kind of grim work for much longer. By the end of the summer she would be long gone from Mary Vale and everybody in it, but hopefully (if Rosie obliged) she might leave the place with some interesting juicy gossip on the Brigadier.

The previous afternoon Sybil had popped on to the ante-ward with a small slice of cake for Rosie, but, as she entered, she spotted Sally and Ronnie by the side of their mother’s bed. Sybil immediately scurried away before any of the family spotted her. She would try again later today, after Sister Ada’s exercise class.