Annie is tired of this new house not feeling like their own. Edward’s reputation grows with the small but increasing stream of patients and their purse swells accordingly, but she knows all this, the luxurious carpets, the new-fangled gas lighting that Edward had insisted upon, the extravagant wallpaper, it all costs. She notes the daily newspaper placed so that patients may pick it up throughout the day. Anyone who can afford 5d for a mere four pages of news (three if the advertisements are discounted) is surely someone with influence. It is ridiculous, thinks Annie. This façade, this show of having money in order to persuade others that you too have worth.

The door to Edward’s consulting room is ajar and Annie goes to pull it shut, but cannot resist a quick peek inside. Neat and orderly – shelves of books along one wall, a vast cabinet full of bottles and concoctions along another – it is even more meticulously organised than when she last looked. The furniture in here is new too, she notes, with a frown. It is not her place to question her husband’s spending but she cannot help but feel he has been profligate, pushing their means to breaking point. Patience, Annie! She reprimands herself. It is an investment for the future. When Edward is more established, there will be time enough for lazy days and indulgence.

Later, as Annie readies herself for bed, she studies her reflection in the dressing-table mirror. Over her shoulder, the brass four-poster with its heavy blue drapes and crisp white bedspread reflects itself back at her. It is a bed to linger in, a bed as much for comfort and caresses as sweet dreams, the same bed in which they spent their wedding night. Three years married, thinks Annie, and still no child. This house should be filled, not just with friends and art and light, but with children too. She feels their absence almost as a presence, ghosts in the hallway, a faded dream of those who have not yet come to pass. She runs her hand gently over her abdomen, hopes that perhaps this will be the month in which her luck will turn, for surely a baby would bring her and Edward closer than ever?

‘There is always hope,’ Annie murmurs softly to herself as she climbs into bed, for there is one other amongst their acquaintance whose advice has not yet been sought: the best man at their wedding and Edward’s longest-standing friend. It will be hard for Annie to talk openly with Samuel Covell about such a private matter but it is clear that, despite finding nothing wrong, previous physicians believe the fault must lie with her and so, she reasons, it must surely be her that now finds the cure. Edward had always been against the idea of consulting Samuel but, Annie thinks, having exhausted other possibilities, it must be worth a try now. For all his faults, Samuel has an excellent reputation for achieving the impossible. As for Annie, she will make herself brave – for what greater proof of her devotion could there be than in providing her husband with the much longed for babe in arms?