‘Are you sure you’ve forgiven me for what I did to you and Sunday?’ Zillah asked suddenly. Her voice was little more than a whisper now, but her tone was urgent.

‘You know I have.’ Lavinia gently kissed the hot damp fingers as a solitary tear trickled down her cheek.

‘Then I can go and meet my maker with a clear conscience.’

‘You’re not going anywhere. I need you – do you hear me?’

Zillah gave a sad smile. ‘No, pet,’ she gasped. ‘You have your daughter and a whole family of little ones to care for now, and that’s just as it should be. But I want you to know … I’ve loved you like my own daughter, and I only kept you from yours to try and protect you both … God bless you.’

Lavinia opened her mouth to protest but Zillah had already lapsed into sleep again. A cold hand closed around her heart, and she wondered if Zillah was preparing herself for her final journey. From that moment on, she just sat there willing her beloved Zillah to live – but all the time she could feel her inexorably, unstoppably, slipping away.

Zillah finally passed away on the fourteenth of January and the whole household was plunged into mourning. The funeral was arranged for the following week, the twenty-second, and on that day, it wasn’t only the residents of Treetops Children’s Home who grieved but the whole country, for it was announced that the Queen had also died that morning at Osborne House, surrounded by her family.

‘Why does everyone keep crying?’ Kitty asked innocently as Sunday was helping her to dress.

‘It’s because Zillah has gone, darling,’ she replied.

‘But where has she gone?’

‘She’s gone to be an angel in heaven.’

Kitty gravely thought about this for a moment before asking, ‘Will she be able to come back and see us?’

‘I’m afraid not.’ Sunday swallowed the huge lump in her throat.

Tears welled in the child’s eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks. ‘But why can’t she? We all love her so.’

‘Yes, we do,’ Sunday gulped. ‘But Zillah was very poorly indeed, so God decided to call her home so that she wouldn’t be poorly any more.’

Kitty pouted. ‘Then I think he’s very mean. This is Zillah’s home.’

Unable to go on with the conversation for fear of breaking down, Sunday gently patted her bottom and turned her towards the door, saying, ‘Why don’t you go down to breakfast like a good girl. You don’t want the others to eat all the porridge up, do you?’

Kitty instantly did as she was told. She loved Cook’s thick creamy porridge and she didn’t want to miss out.

Once she was gone, Sunday folded her little nightgown up and tucked it under her pillow before making her way slowly downstairs. It would be time to start getting ready for the funeral soon and she wasn’t looking forward to it one little bit. Em’ly and Bessie were already carrying the food Cook had prepared into the dining room for any of the mourners who might wish to come back to the house after the burial, so this morning the children were all eating in the kitchen. This would be one day that Sunday would be very glad to get over with.