I frowned, not knowing what she meant, but followed her anxiously down the little hallway, breathing hard. In the neat little parlour Tamasin sat on cushions, looking pale. To my immense relief Barak sat on a chair beside her, his unbandaged hand in hers while Guy, in his long physician’s robe, leaned over the table, mixing herbs in a dish. From upstairs I heard little George crying.

‘Jane,’ Tamasin said, ‘will you go up to him? He knows there is something out of sorts.’

‘What has happened?’ I asked when Jane left the room.

Barak looked up. In the warm summer evening he wore only his shirt and hose, and I again glimpsed his father’s ancient mezuzah on its gold chain round his neck. ‘Tamasin had a pain in her stomach this morning. When I came home at lunchtime it was worse. She feared something was happening to the baby. I went round to Guy.’

Guy spoke soothingly, ‘All is well, it was nothing more than wind.’ Tamasin looked away, embarrassed.

‘She had me worried,’ Barak said. Tamasin lifted a hand and stroked his neat beard. He turned his head to look at me. ‘Sorry I didn’t come back to work. But it’s Saturday. Paperwork day. How did you know I was here?’

‘I – I didn’t, for certain. But there was something I needed to discuss with you urgently, so I came round.’

‘I am sorry I discommoded you,’ Tamasin said.

‘’Tis you that needs the commode,’ Barak answered with a wicked grin.

‘Fie, Jack.’ She reddened.

Guy stood up. ‘Mix these herbs with some beer and take them with food,’ he instructed. ‘Sometimes the mixture can ease – what you have.’ He smiled. ‘There is nothing else to worry about.’

Tamasin took his hand. ‘You are good to us,’ she said. ‘Only we worry, after – ’

‘I know,’ Guy said. She was remembering their first, stillborn child.

‘I’ll see you out,’ Barak said.

‘Thank you.’ I noticed there was still a reserve in Guy’s voice when he addressed me. He gave me a formal little bow, which hurt me more than hard words would have done, and Barak showed him out. I was left with Tamasin. She leaned back on the cushions.

‘I was worried,’ she said to me quietly.

‘I understand. In your condition any – upset – must make you fear some ill to the child.’

‘Yes.’ She looked wistful. ‘I hope for a daughter this time. A little girl to dress in frocks and make rag dolls for.’

‘Maybe it will be so.’

She smiled briefly at the thought, then said, ‘Guy looked at Jack’s hand. It is healing well. But it was unlike him to be so careless, and that is a nasty cut to get just from a paper knife.’ Her eyes had narrowed slightly and I had to stop myself shifting uneasily; I knew how sharp Tamasin was.

‘I am glad it is healing well,’ I replied neutrally.