Jay clapped him on the back. ‘That’s the ticket.’

Jack ran on ahead as they crossed the stable yard and entered the house through the scullery. Mrs Bee was in the middle of preparing the midday meal, but her face lit up when she saw them and she stopped what she was doing. ‘Well, this is a surprise.’

Dove gave her brother a warm hug. ‘Why aren’t you in school, young man,’ she said, smiling. ‘What will Dad say when he finds out you’ve bunked off?’

‘Mr Massey knows.’ Jack turned to Daisy for confirmation and she nodded. ‘Daisy is teaching me at home while my arm is bad, and Mr Massey comes to check on me, but I think he really comes to see Daisy. I think he’s sweet on her.’

Daisy shook her head. ‘Don’t be silly, Jack. Mr Massey is very conscientious and he thinks you could go far, if you apply yourself to your books.’

‘It looks to me as if you’re ready to go back to classes,’ Dove said primly. ‘I’m sure Mr Massey has better things to do than to run round after you, Jack.’

Mrs Bee glanced anxiously at Nick. ‘Is everything all right, Doctor? You look worried.’

‘Everything is fine, Mrs Bee. We’ve got a few business things to talk about. Might we have some tea in the parlour?’

‘Of course, Doctor.’ Mrs Bee stared pointedly at Dove. ‘I’ll leave that to you.’

‘Yes, Mrs Bee.’ Dove turned to her brother with a stern look. ‘You’d best sit at the table, Jack, and I’ll give you a cup of milk and a biscuit.’

‘Can I have a piece of cake?’

Daisy hesitated as she was about to follow the others from the room. ‘May I have a piece of cake, Jack. Remember what Mr Massey says.’ She did not stop to hear him repeat his request, but Dove’s reaction to the mention of the schoolmaster’s name had struck a chord. Perhaps Dove had feelings for Elliot Massey? Maybe the dull, over-zealous teacher had charms that she herself had not seen. Daisy hurried after Nick and Jay as they made their way to the parlour.

Nick waited until Daisy and Jay were seated and he went to stand with his back to the fire. ‘I could lose all this before the week is out,’ he said, gazing round the shabby, but comfortably furnished room.

Daisy followed his gaze, taking in the silver trophies on the mantelshelf, and the framed daguerreotypes of people she assumed must be Nick’s parents, and of Nick himself as a child and a schoolboy. In one corner a cricket bat and stumps had been left and probably forgotten, half-hidden by a pile of medical books, the overspill from a crowded bookcase. The walls were barely visible beneath watercolours of the flat Essex countryside and oil paintings, mainly of dogs and horses. A portrait hanging above the fireplace caught Daisy’s eye and Nick followed her gaze. The subject, a dark-haired young woman wearing a pale green gown, gazed down at them with a gentle smile in her hazel eyes.