‘I just wish that I could have seen William today,’ Lavinia said wistfully and as she left the room Sunday wagged a finger at her.

‘You know it’s bad luck for the bride to see the groom the day before the wedding.’

‘I’m hardly some young filly, I can’t see what difference it would have made at our age,’ Lavinia grumbled, but Sunday was not going to budge on this one.

‘Just settle down and read a magazine or something,’ she suggested in a no-nonsense kind of voice and then with a last grin she went off to the kitchen.

Lavinia Huntley’s wedding day dawned sunny and bright and Treetops was a hive of activity as Cissie and Sunday helped the children who now lived there into their Sunday-best clothes. Lavinia had been like a grandmother to them and they were all keen to be a part of the special occasion. Treetops was their home, and they loved, and were loved by, everyone there.

‘Goodness knows when we’ll have time to get ready ourselves,’ Cissie muttered as she brushed a little girl’s hair before tying it back with a blue ribbon. ‘There you are, Susan. Run along now.’ And the child went to join the others.

It was so unlike Cissie to grumble that Sunday peeped at her from the corner of her eye. Now that she came to think about it, Cissie hadn’t seemed to be herself for a few days. Normally they confided everything to each other but Cissie hadn’t said that anything was wrong.

‘Right, that’s the last one done,’ Sunday said then as she eyed her charges with satisfaction. ‘It’s your turn now, Cissie. Go and get changed while I help Mother with her hair. I’ve only got to slip my dress on so I shan’t be two minutes.’ She wagged a warning finger at the children then. ‘And mind you lot don’t go getting up to mischief and getting dirty.’

The children giggled and skipped happily away as Cissie slowly made her way to the room where her clothes were laid out ready. They had decided it would save time if she didn’t have to rush off back to the cottage. Once inside the room she closed the door behind her and her chin sank to her chest as she sniffed back a tear. Her son had paid her the third visit in as many weeks only days ago and once again he had played on her sympathy and gone away with yet more of hers and George’s savings tucked in his pocket. Cissie had tried to tell him this time that she really couldn’t spare any more, but he had become quite abusive with her and it had almost broken her heart.

‘I should have realised you wouldn’t want to help me,’ he had whined. ‘You never wanted me in the first place so why should you want me now?’

‘But I do want you … I always wanted you!’ Cissie had objected as he sat with a fierce look on his face. Then when he had risen to leave, she had panicked. What if he turned his back on her and she never saw him again? She had dreamed for so long of finding him and now she finally had – and yet, deep down, she was ashamed to admit that although he was her own flesh and blood, she didn’t like him. He had soon shown himself to be like his father in nature as well as looks, and being no fool, Cissie understood that he only wanted to keep a connection with her so that he could bleed her dry of money. Now, too late, she believed every word his adoptive parents had said about him – but her savings were almost gone. What was George going to say when he found out? Never in their entire married life had they had secrets from each other, but she was too ashamed to tell him what she had done.