‘Mamma, there was someone on the Green today who looked like Pappa,’ James said through a mouthful of scone.

‘Manners, James, my darling. Do not speak with your mouth full.’ Ann swivelled round. ‘Where was this person?’

James swallowed. ‘Standing under the lamppost at the far end, you know where we go with the Donaldsons and their dog?’

Ann nodded. It was the man she had seen. ‘Why did you believe he resembled Pappa?’

Lizzie was peering at her scone as she slowly and methodically spread it with butter and then jam. ‘Is this strawberry jam, Mamma?’

‘Yes.’ Ann stroked her daughter’s hair and looked at her son once more.

‘Well, he had the same hat as Pappa wears and though I could not see his face, I saw him looking at us.’

‘James.’ Ann put down her bone china cup. ‘Do you recall what I told you the other night? Pappa is, sadly, never coming back. He is in heaven and…’

‘But Mamma,’ said Lizzie, sitting up straight. ‘Maybe he swam to the shore and got dried off and he has been getting better and drier since then and now he is returning to…’

‘Your father is dead!’ Ann snapped, immediately regretting it. She kissed her daughter’s plump cheek. She rubbed the nape of James’s neck then kissed him too. ‘Sorry, my dears, but you have to try to accept that. He will not be back. Never ever.’

She looked at Lizzie, whose head was bent low over her plate. She tilted her daughter’s sweet little chin up and saw tears fill her eyes. Lizzie blinked and swallowed then took a large bite of her perfectly buttered scone.

James nodded. ‘I am the man of the house now, Mamma. I shall take care of you and Lizzie.’

‘Thank you, James, dear. Now, let us never talk of it again.’

She lifted the lid off the silver salver. ‘Another scone, while they are warm?’

* * *

Ann poured herself a glass of water from the pitcher beside her bed. Lifting the phial from the bedside table she shook one drop carefully into the glass. She had wanted to take more of the potion tonight but since Miss Graham was away, collecting her black clothes, she did not want to sleep too deeply, in case Lizzie awoke and needed her. James she knew would never wake and even if he did, she felt sure he would never come to seek comfort. Robert had been telling him for the past year or so that he was no longer a little boy and that he must be strong and stoical, like a man, no tears, no whining. James was still her baby, Robert had never understood that.