‘Yes, we would, thank you.’ Sunday rose from her seat, glad of a chance to escape the strained silence and Tom rose with her. Mr and Mrs Dawes personally showed them the way upstairs and again Sunday noticed that everywhere was pristine. There seemed to be an army of maids scurrying about the place like little ants all with dusters in their hands, and Sunday feared that if she stood still they might start to polish her. She also noticed that they kept their eyes downcast as they passed their mistress. What was it – deference or fear?

‘Here we are.’ Mrs Dawes stopped outside a door on the first-floor landing and flinging it open, she beckoned them in.

At a glance, Sunday and Tom saw that it was indeed a very beautiful room – and one that had been furnished and decorated for a little girl. The carpet and the curtains were a pale lilac colour, and dollies and teddy bears in regimentally straight rows were placed on the chairs strategically set out around the room. A four-poster bed trimmed with lace drapes took centre stage, and there was a pretty rosewood wardrobe, ornately carved, with a matching chest of drawers and dressing table. An enormous doll’s house stood against one wall. Even the tiny furniture inside it was neat as a new pin. On another wall was a large bookshelf full of beautifully illustrated fairy stories. Sunday couldn’t help but think that any little girl would love this room – and yet for some reason that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, she felt uneasy. Even so, now that she had seen the house she could find no valid reason to stop the Dawes from taking a child, so she began to question them.

‘I assume after seeing this room that you wish to take in a little girl?’

‘Oh yes, if it is possible,’ Stella Dawes answered as she wrung her hands. ‘We would prefer a little girl, wouldn’t we, Victor?’ She addressed her husband as if for support.

‘If that’s what you have your heart set on, my dear,’ he answered indulgently.

‘Hmm, well as it happens I do have a child in the age bracket you would prefer,’ Sunday admitted. ‘It couldn’t be Kitty, the little girl you saw when you visited us.’ Then, feeling that she needed to offer some explanation she hurried on, ‘We are paid to care for her and feel sure that her guardian, although they haven’t made themselves known to us as yet, will come to claim her some day. But I do have another little girl. Her name is Margaret, but we call her Maggie and she’s almost the same age as Kitty.’

‘Oh!’ Mrs Dawes clapped her hands together, her eyes alight. ‘Could we perhaps come and meet her?’

‘Of course. I would expect you to visit her a few times before you made your decision,’ Sunday answered. She was feeling very agitated. Maggie could be a complete nuisance for most of the time but even so, Sunday was very attached to all the children in her care and found it hard to contemplate letting go of any of them, even Maggie. Sensing this, Tom reached out and held her trembling hand in his big, warm paw.