‘I don’t know why we keep her on,’ Cook said, shaking her head. ‘I’d sack her today if it was up to me.’

‘She’s one of seven children and their father worked on the railway.’

Cook’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Of course, I remember now. Wasn’t he killed in an accident on the track?’

‘That’s right. The family are struggling and her mother takes in washing. The children who are old enough do anything they can to earn a penny or two. The small amount that Lizzie takes home, together with her brother’s wages from the Johnsons’ farm, just about keeps them all from the workhouse.’

Cook lowered her voice to a whisper as Lizzie lumbered out of the pantry carrying a plate of cakes. ‘I’ll make more of an effort, Judy, I really will, but she’s enough to try the patience of a saint.’

Judy made the tea, laid the tray and cut the cake into dainty slices. ‘There you are, Lizzie. Take this to the drawing room.’ She gazed down at the toecaps of Lizzie’s brother’s boots peeping out from beneath the grey cotton dress, and she changed her mind. ‘I’ll carry it as far as the drawing room and you can take over from there. Follow me.’

‘Yes, miss.’ Lizzie licked a crumb of cake from the corner of her mouth and chuckled. ‘That’s good, but I only took a little pinch, Cook. I never stuck me finger in it.’

Cook rolled her eyes and turned away to stir a pan on the range. Judy picked up the tray and headed for the drawing room. ‘Don’t trip over anything,’ she said in a low voice when they reached the door. ‘Put the tray on the tea table beside the sofa and leave Madam to pour. Have you got that, Lizzie?’

‘Of course I have. Do you think I’m stupid, or something?’

Judy ignored this and knocked and waited for an answer. ‘Just try not to spill anything.’ Judy opened the door and stood aside. She crossed her fingers as she walked away. If there was a god of clumsy girls, Lizzie needed his help now.

Judy related this episode to Jack a little later when she took him tea and cake. He listened quietly to her description of Lizzie’s antics and then he laughed. She could have hugged him with delight, but she resisted the temptation. This was a normal conversation after the fiasco of the outing in the wheelchair, and she felt a little more hopeful. She was tempted to ask him what the doctors had said, but thought it best to leave him to tell her in his own good time. She waited until he had drunk his tea and eaten a slice of cake, hoping to resume the conversation, but he lapsed into silence and turned his head away to stare out of the window. The brief interlude had cheered her temporarily, but now Jack seemed to be slipping back into the dark world of depression. There was little she could do other than to make him as comfortable as possible, and leave him to rest.