‘Hello, Sunday,’ the children chorused as they flooded past her out into the spring sunshine with Barney in hot pursuit, his tail wagging furiously.

‘Phew, I thought I was going to get trampled in the rush, for a moment there,’ Sunday commented to Verity. When Sunday was growing up in the workhouse, Verity had been the only person to ever show Sunday any real kindness or affection. Sunday would never forget that and she loved the woman dearly. Poor Verity was Zillah’s niece – the two had been very close, and Verity had taken her aunt’s death very badly. Now, however, she laughed as she drew on her gloves and took her hat from Em’ly.

‘George has the trap outside and he just offered to run you home,’ Sunday told her just as Tom emerged from his office to join them.

‘Wonderful.’ Verity was pleased. ‘Edgar has some parish meeting or another tonight in the church hall so I could do with getting home a little early. See you the same time tomorrow, Sunday.’ She was gone then with a breezy wave of the hand.

Sunday took Tom’s elbow and almost dragged him into the drawing room. She couldn’t wait to tell him the news.

‘I bumped into Maggie today. She was in the marketplace with her nanny.’

‘Well, that was nice then,’ Tom said. ‘How did she look?’

Sunday began to pace, a sure sign that she was agitated. ‘It’s not so much how she looked that disturbed me as how she acted.’

Tom took a seat. ‘What do you mean?’

‘She just seemed so … oh, I don’t know – quiet, I suppose, and not herself at all. And she’s lost an awful lot of weight.’

‘Isn’t it normal for very young children to lose their baby weight as they grow a little older? And let’s be honest, Maggie was a chunky little thing. Losing a little weight won’t hurt her, surely?’

Seeing the twinkle in her husband’s eye, Sunday grew annoyed. ‘Oh, I know what you’re thinking,’ she snapped. ‘That I’m just looking for things to worry about, but I tell you – something isn’t right with her.’

‘You’re like a mother hen worrying about her chick,’ he teased as he crossed to give her an affectionate hug. ‘I’m sure if there had been any concerns, Mr and Mrs Dawes would have been in touch with us.’

‘It was something about her eyes … as if her spirit had been broken,’ Sunday went on, ignoring his comment. ‘Almost as if she was afraid to speak without the nanny’s permission. Ugh, she was a tartar!’

‘In that case, I suggest we employ her to come here for a few days a week. She might be able to get our unruly lot into some sort of order. Now for goodness sake stop fretting, will you? Maggie will be fine, I’m sure.’

Sunday snuggled against his broad chest. No doubt Tom was right. She had to give Maggie a chance to settle in her new home with no interference from her, but it was always so hard to stand back …