The kitchen door swung open, and Harriet blinked in astonishment at the woman who stood there, smiling at her.

Chapter 45

Polly crossed over the threshold, wearing a black silk day dress, flanked by two triumphant-looking little boys holding their mouths to stifle their giggles. Harriet could not recall the last time she had seen Polly in any garment other than a nightgown. She had even put on stockings and shoes, and a jewelled barrette sparkled in a bird’s nest of grey hair.

The boys were ecstatic: ‘Harriet! Look!’ and ‘We helped mother get downstairs!’

Polly took in the scene. ‘How… inviting,’ she said, her chest heaving.

Sadie was the first to react. ‘Mrs Simpson!’ she cried. ‘What on God’s good Earth…?’ She bustled over and took Polly’s arm, shooing the boys away. ‘Harriet, a seat, and be quick about it.’

Harriet pulled out a chair and Sadie guided her aunt into it. Polly’s colour was hectic and her breathing came in ragged gasps, reminding Harriet of Walter in his final days.

She had never seen Albert Boothby look so unsure of himself. He coughed and began to speak, but Polly held up her hand for quiet and he obeyed. Sadie put a glass of water on the table, and they all watched her take a sip.

She should have known he would not remain still for long. He slammed his hand on the table, startling all three women. ‘What are you playing at? We have just buried Walter! Are you intending to follow him so soon?’

Polly smiled thinly and pointed her finger at him. ‘You may leave. I wish to have a private conversation with my niece. Sadie, take George and William outside, please. They need to be aired.’

‘It’s lookin’ like snow,’ said Sadie dubiously.

‘Boots and hats then. Five minutes only.’

Polly sipped from her water glass while Sadie fussed with hats and coats and shooed the boys outside, throwing an aggrieved look at Harriet before following them.

‘You just missed your oldest son’s departure, unfortunately,’ said Albert.

‘Mr Boothby, do not presume to sneer. Adam and I shared breakfast together. We had a conversation about his future.’ She took a deep breath. ‘All is well.’

‘Well? Let me tell you, Mrs Simpson, that when I am head of this family…’

‘Why are you so aggrieved to see me out of bed, I wonder, Mr Boothby?’ Polly smiled tenderly at Harriet. ‘I’m sorry for the shock of it.’

Harriet crouched by her side. Beads of sweat gleamed on Polly’s face. The wedding band and ruby signet she wore on her left hand were sunk deep into pale and puffy flesh. ‘But, aunt, has the doctor allowed it?’

‘I should say not! If Walter were here he would not allow it either.’

‘Mr Boothby, please,’ said Polly. ‘I’m sure you have important matters to which you should attend.’

‘I shall remain to hear…’

‘Albert,’ said Harriet. ‘I would have you stay, but we must obey my aunt who has just risen from her bed and will be feeling weak from it. Let us not distress her.’