He stood over her, looking at her reflection as he did as she’d asked, and was overcome by a strange sense of melancholy. ‘Mary Kate, will you do something for me?’

She wasn’t really concentrating, she was so taken by her own image. Sometimes she was shocked at how much like her mother she looked, and at this moment, as the green velvet ribbon settled into the dip in her throat and the emerald caught the light and winked back at her, she felt as though Sarah was sitting next to her, smiling. Sarah had worn the emerald every day of Mary Kate’s life. She shook her head; it was the familiarity of the stone that had made the hairs on her arms rise. Her fingers flew to her neck as she caressed the soft loveliness of the green velvet ribbon.

‘Nicholas, it’s so beautiful. I don’t know how you thought to do this.’

‘I saw it in Lewis’s, when you sent me to buy the ribbons for Debbie’s hair.’ He laughed. ‘And the idea just came to me. Will you wear it every day? Promise me?’

She nodded, her eyes full of tears. She stood and turned; her lips found his and her hands cupped the back of his neck. ‘I love you so much,’ she whispered as they parted.

He couldn’t respond; his throat was thick with emotion and his heart was full of an overpowering, protective love.

‘I can smell toast,’ Mary Kate said. ‘Come on. I really can’t face a day of Joan’s sulking, that’s too much for anyone, even a fallen woman like me. You go on down. I’ll pull on some clothes or Joan really will be out the door.’

She smiled at his retreating back, held her hand to her throat and felt the warmth beneath the ribbon as he ran down the stairs shouting, ‘Coming, Joan!’ She hoped it would be a sight she could devour every day for the rest of her life.

Down in the kitchen, Joan was in a good mood. She battled with her conscience, working for the girl from a village back home who had become her mistress under the most sinful of circumstances. ‘I have to go to confession every day – imagine!’ she’d confided to Deidra, the Irish girl who worked for Mrs O’Keefe, over their daily tea and natter.

‘’Twill all end in tears,’ said Deidra. A fearful silence had fallen then, because wasn’t Mary Kate sinning in the worst way imaginable, and wouldn’t the price exacted be a very dark one indeed?

‘I’ve scrambled your eggs, Dr Marcus,’ said Joan, heaving the pan off the stove when he walked in.

The radio remained on loud, something both Mary Kate and Nicholas had decided wasn’t worth fighting over, given how affected Joan had been by all the upset. The boys leaving had broken her heart, and Mary Kate moving into the master bedroom had seen her turning to her rosaries.

‘I haven’t time, Joan,’ said Nicholas as he lifted his hat from the back of the door. ‘Can I take a piece of toast with me to eat in the car?’