‘Since Thou art Being and Breath,

And what Thou art may never be destroyed.’

She had loved Emily Brontë’s poems when she was growing up, even though her father did not approve of them, since they were written not only by a woman, but one too young for him ever to take seriously. Emily Brontë’s volume of poems was one of the books that she and Annie read secretly.

Father would say things such as, ‘The sacred and secular are not to be parcelled into separate compartments – everything is sacred.’

But – Margaret recalled this in the seconds during which she entered the room with Daisy – he did not behave as if he believed this. And she thought back with both pain and affection on the narrowness of the lives they had led, which her mother had chosen out of love and faith and which she had cheerfully lived. If their mother had not died, would it not have all been very different?

Mrs Flett appeared immediately and said, ‘I suppose you’ll be wanting tea again, Miss Daisy?’

Margaret wondered if she imagined a slight air of disapproval, which could not surely be about the tea, an everyday thing. Was it herself, visiting so often, that Mrs Flett disapproved of?

‘Oh, yes, please!’ Daisy said. ‘I’m ravenous. Is there any of that cherry cake left?’

Mrs Flett’s bony face smiled in spite of itself. ‘Oh, I think I can find a crumb or two.’

Daisy was bustling about, bringing her bowl with its lustrous surface out of the cupboard at the bottom of the dresser, when, as if drawn by a second sense, Philip Tallis appeared in the doorway. Margaret knew that he always tried to have a break at this time to see Daisy when she came home from school. But immediately he looked behind the door to where Margaret was sitting by the table, as if he was expecting – hoping, even – to see her there.

‘Ah – good afternoon. Time for classes to begin, eh?’

‘I think I’ll just be watching,’ Margaret said. She felt herself blush a little, wondering if it was so obvious that the reason she was here, had been here every afternoon this week – and it was now Friday – was because of him as much as Daisy. She was drawn by the work, the loveliness of it all, and by Daisy’s need of company. But that was not all. There was the pleasure and excitement of his company that she could not resist.

‘Pa – you’ll show me how to solder this on here, won’t you?’ Daisy enthused. ‘Now? You promised!’

‘I will,’ Philip Tallis said. ‘But let’s have some tea first – I’m parched.’ He came to the table, as Margaret had known he would.

‘How are you today?’ he asked quietly, removing his overall and seating himself.

‘Very well,’ she smiled. ‘Would you like me to pour?’