‘I can only do my best,’ she answered primly, and pulling her gloves on she swept from the room leaving Tom to sigh and wonder how much longer this cold shoulder treatment was going to go on for.

The day was actually a huge success although the handsome young photographer almost drooled over Kitty when he saw her and could hardly take his eyes off her – a fact which Kitty quickly latched on to.

‘Have you ever thought of being a photographic model?’ he asked as Kitty flirted and batted her long dark eyelashes at him.

‘No, she has not thought of being a model and no, she is definitely not interested!’ Sunday interrupted him sternly and Kitty giggled as she then ushered all the children outside and towards the ice-cream parlour. They had all been promised a treat if they behaved, and they had … well, most of them had.

‘You know, I wouldn’t mind being a model,’ Kitty mused when they were all seated in the parlour with huge ice-cream sundaes in front of them.

Sunday almost choked as she glared at the girl. ‘Don’t be ridiculous! It’s not respectable,’ she snapped. ‘You could be taken advantage of.’ And then as a squabble broke out amongst two of the younger children about whose sundae was the biggest, she turned her attention to them and the subject was dropped.

It was late afternoon by the time they trooped down the drive leading to Treetops and the children were somewhat subdued. It had been a long walk from the town and they were tired.

At the door, Cissie informed her that her mother had gone out for the evening with Mr Dewhurst and that there was a visitor waiting in the drawing room for her with Tom.

‘Who is it?’ Sunday asked as she took the hat pin out of her hat and removed it, along with her coat, which was whisked away by Ethel.

‘No idea, pet.’ Cissie shrugged, then she ushered the children off to wash their hands before going in for their supper.

Sunday had been looking forward to a nice quiet evening with her feet up and the chance to start on The Return of Sherlock Holmes. Her feet were throbbing as it happened and she could hardly wait to get her shoes off, but she supposed she should go and see who the visitor was, first. As far as she knew, they hadn’t been expecting anyone. As she headed for the drawing room, the appetising smell of Mrs Cotton’s beef stew and dumplings wafted up to her and her stomach grumbled. Apart from the ice cream in town she’d had little to eat today and she’d just realised how hungry she was. Still, first things first, she thought and plastering a polite smile on her face she entered the drawing room.

Her eyes were instantly drawn to a neat and tidy-looking little woman sitting in one of the fireside chairs. Her clothes were very respectable but they put Sunday in mind of something a governess or a nanny might wear. She certainly didn’t look to be dressed like a lady and her grey hair, coiled simply at the nape of her neck, was not at all styled as a lady’s might be.