‘He’s looking better than he did on Tuesday.’ She smiled, revealing her very neat dentures which amplified her mouselike appearance.

‘He is, isn’t he?’ Marion said.

‘You must be tired, me duck. All the hours you visit – and then I bet you don’t sleep much when you are home.’

Marion was touched and felt the tears sting her throat. ‘Oh, you know. I spent last night putting the decorations up for when he comes home.’

‘Oh, that’s lovely, but you have to look after yourself, you know. How about a bit of fruit cake with your tea?’

‘Thank you. I am a bit peckish.’

‘Not feeding yourself properly, I expect. I was the same when my old man came home from France. Lost his leg.’ She bent down to pull something from the bottom of her trolley. ‘Got the evening paper here – some bloke in X-ray left it in the waiting room. You have it. Do the crossword. It’ll make the time pass.’

Marion wondered about the kindness of strangers and how perfectly timed the kindnesses came – unasked for, uninvited and yet given selflessly. She thought of the Bible lessons she taught to the Princesses and the one from Hebrews which had Lilibet had often repeated: Do not forget to show love to strangers, for they may be angels in disguise. Marion smiled to herself. It would be just like God to make an angel out of a tea lady.

She drank the tea and ate the delicious cake before starting on the crossword.

After a peaceful hour, the doctor arrived. The nurse attending him drew the curtains around the bed, so they could speak in private.

‘Sleeping, is he? When did he last have his meds, nurse?’

‘About an hour and a half ago,’ she replied.

‘Ah. No wonder he is sleeping. And how are you, Mrs Buthlay?’

‘I’m well thank you,’ said Marion, ‘but worried for George.’

‘Naturally. Are you all ready for Christmas?’

‘Just some wrapping to do.’

‘Good, because Mr Buthlay can go home tomorrow. He has responded very well to treatment and not being able to get hold of any alcohol. He’s been lucky. If he had carried on the way he has, he would be very seriously ill indeed.’

Marion swallowed hard. ‘How can I help him?’

‘No alcohol in the house – none at all. Regular healthy meals, plenty of water and some exercise in the fresh air. I’ll send him home with his medication. Make sure he takes it, and I hope I don’t have to see him again.’

‘Thank you, doctor.’

‘Now you go home,’ he replied. ‘Collect him at ten o’clock tomorrow and have a jolly good Christmas.’

‘We will – and you too. Thank you.’

She went home feeling much happier. After the shock of the contract and the arrival of the money in their joint account, George had begun his old routine: nights in the pub and days recovering or shouting at her – or both.