On a bitterly cold day in the middle of January, Daisy and her uncle and aunt left their home in Whitechapel. Toby had not officially started his new position at the hospital, and as he had time on his hands he had decided to accompany them. Daisy suspected that his decision was motivated more by curiosity than anything else, but Toby had said vaguely that he had a friend who lived somewhere in that part of Essex and he might pay him a visit. Her gregarious brother seemed to have friends everywhere and Daisy had not questioned him further. It was good to have the family together again, no matter what the reason.

It was snowing again, but Jonah insisted on seeing them off. ‘You’ll return soon enough,’ he whispered as Daisy edged past him. ‘And I’ll be waiting.’

She did not look back as Toby handed her into the waiting hackney carriage, but even as they drove off she was aware that Jonah Sawkins was standing in the shop doorway, watching until they were out of sight.

‘Cheer up, Daisy,’ Toby said, grinning. ‘You might even enjoy living in Little Creek. Let’s hope it isn’t as dull as it sounds.’

As the train pulled out of Bishopsgate Station, Daisy’s last hope of seeing Julian evaporated like the great puffs of smoke and steam belching from the massive engine. Although she knew it was unlikely, she had thought he might have written to her. She had been tempted to return the ring, but she would not give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his cowardly behaviour. It was tucked away in her jewellery box, along with a few cheap trinkets and the rope of pearls that her mother had worn on her wedding day. Daisy sighed and settled down to gaze out of the window.

The train trundled through rural Essex, stopping at every station to disgorge people and livestock onto the platforms, and to pick up more passengers. Daisy stared out of the window at the countryside as it flashed past, but all that registered were the stark bare branches of the trees, stretching towards the grey sky like dead men’s fingers. Ploughed fields lay dormant, imprisoned by neatly trimmed hedgerows, and muddy rivers slithered like snakes, heading for the sea.

Daisy had seen little of Toby during the journey as he had joined a group of young men in another compartment and she could hear their raucous laughter above the clickety-clack of iron wheels as they crossed the points, and her uncle’s stertorous snores. Aunt Eleanora was supposed to be reading a novel, but she too kept nodding off, leaving Daisy alone with her thoughts.

When they arrived at Little Creek Station Daisy stepped out onto the platform, taking deep breaths of the ice-cold air, sharpened by the briny tang of the sea and the smell of brackish mud from the saltings.

‘Godforsaken place,’ Toby said as he hefted a couple of carpet bags onto the platform. ‘Are you sure you’re doing the right thing, Uncle?’