‘Oh, she needn’t bother bringing them,’ Mrs Dawes answered airily. ‘Pass them on to one of the others. I have all new clothes waiting for her at home.’

Maggie looked at Kitty with her nose in the air, as if to say, ‘See how lucky I am?’ But Kitty merely smiled as she ran forward to give the girl a final hug.

‘I shall miss you,’ she whispered in Maggie’s ear and the latter’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. She knew that she hadn’t always been kind to Kitty because she was envious of how pretty she was, and now she wished that she had been nicer to her.

Mrs Dawes took Maggie’s hand then and marched her towards the front door.

‘But won’t you stay for tea?’ Sunday asked, suddenly in a panic.

‘No we won’t, if you don’t mind,’ Mrs Dawes replied. ‘Margaret’s new nanny is anxious to meet her and I think perhaps it’s best for her if we just go and get the parting over with, rather than prolonging it, don’t you?’

Lavinia had come to place her arm through Sunday’s now and feeling her daughter’s pain, she answered for her. ‘Yes, Mrs Dawes. I think you are probably right. Take good care of her and remember, we are here if you should need us. Goodbye.’

Maggie suddenly didn’t feel quite so confident about leaving behind the only people she had ever cared about, but she took the woman’s hand and after a brief wave she went off and never even looked back.

‘There then. Let’s hope that’s another child that has found a happy home,’ Lavinia said warmly.

Sunday gave one last anxious look at the door before dutifully following her mother and husband into the morning room to discuss plans for the day ahead.

Over the next three months Treetops gradually settled back into some sort of normality as the people who lived there resigned themselves to their dear Zillah’s death. Even Lavinia seemed to have accepted it now and gradually began to come out of her shell. Little had been seen of Maggie until one day, as she was walking through the marketplace, intent on purchasing new under-garments for Marianne and Kitty, who both seemed to have grown a good deal recently, Sunday saw a woman in a dove-grey uniform coming towards her clutching the hand of a small girl. For an instant she didn’t take much notice of them, but something familiar about the child make her look again – and when she did, the breath caught in her throat.

‘Maggie?’ As they drew abreast of her the woman paused and frowned at Sunday as Maggie looked up at her from dull eyes. She had lost a great deal of weight and her usual lank hair was now a mass of ringlets tied up with a red ribbon. ‘H-how are you, pet?’

The woman said repressively, ‘Do you know this person, Margaret?’