Gunson bent down and took a breadcake. He bit into it, for politeness’ sake. It was filled with butter and cheese, and might be the most delicious sandwich he’d ever tasted if he had any appetite. He chewed and swallowed painfully and allowed the hand holding the breadcake to drop over the side of the chair. The dog eyed this movement, but remained in place, panting gently. He wondered whether the animal would dart forward if he dropped the bread and relieve him of the burden of continuing to eat.

‘How remarkably well trained he is,’ he said.

‘She’s a lovely animal,’ said Louisa. ‘Soft as a brush. Do you like dogs, Mr Gunson?’

‘Not especially, no. I encountered a mongrel on the street once that tried to make his teeth meet through the calf of my leg.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Millicent. ‘They can be a nuisance, can’t they, when they’re not looked after proper? Shandy is like part of the family now.’

‘I’m sorry to take her away, but she must come back wi’ me,’ said Silas.

‘Will you keep in touch?’ said Louisa.

‘Aye, o’course. I’ll come back one day, an’ see you all.’

‘And bring Shandy.’

‘Aye.’ Silas shook his head when Millicent offered him a breadcake. ‘Nay. Thanks.’

A draught from the window laid cold air against the back of Gunson’s neck. The dog flopped down, chin on paws, and observed each of them in turn, eyebrows twitching. It was unbearable. Gunson was going to have to eat the damned sandwich.

‘Mr Gunson was a great support to me when I was searching for you, Louisa,’ said Millicent.

‘I know, Mother.’ Louisa shook her head and said to Charlotte, ‘She’s told me the tale often enough.’

‘I am glad you are well,’ said Gunson, and fell silent. He rubbed his beard. ‘I know you lost people dear to you and I am sorry. It was a terrible tragedy.’ He stopped again, at a loss for words.

Charlotte tutted. ‘What my husband doesn’t say is that he has worked day and night ever since to make amends.’

He smiled at her gratefully.

‘Well, Louisa is safe under my roof and I’m glad of it,’ said Millicent.

He nodded gravely.

‘Mrs Gunson, I met you, once, before, when I were a girl,’ said Louisa. ‘Mr Gunson were interviewin’ mother and you took me in the kitchen and gave me a spiced bun. Tha prob’ly don’t remember it.’

‘Oh, I do!’ said Charlotte. ‘Yes, I do remember.’

‘Tha wanted her to live in so from that point I were required to find me own way in the world. I din’t have a father to go to.’

‘I was widowed young,’ Millicent interjected.

‘Anyway, it were fine because I got a maid’s job at the Simpsons – that ruined me hands, but, look, Silas, they’re a sight better now I’m not scrubbin’ all day long – an’ I got taken in as one of Hilda Armitage’s waifs and strays.’

Gunson didn’t need reminding of what had happened to Hilda Armitage and her child.