‘As for you and me, yes, we’re friends but you ought to try and find that palship with Ginnie in your marriage. You can’t run the two of us, side by side like tram lines: Ginnie for sunshine and fun, poor old Netta for showers and sorrow. You can’t keep bobbing up out of the blue when you feel like it to lumber me with all your troubles, leaving me anxious and sad while you swan off back down the road to the High House, free to dance to Ginnie’s beat. It’s not fair on either of us. I’m really sorry for what happened tonight. I know what it’s like to have nowhere to turn and feel life’s not worth living. You once said to me, “Cling on to hope and honesty”, remember?’

‘Aye, I know, but where is all this leading me?’

‘I don’t know. It’s your life. One step at a time, Drew. Follow your heart, don’t go against your instincts. Look what happens when you do.’

‘Where do you find all these gems of insight… from a Patience Strong calendar?’ He was grinning.

Don’t mock. That particular one came from a far better doctor than you’ll ever be if you don’t use your compassion. A man who saved my life by following his instincts.’

Netta shoved a mug of cocoa in his face. The story of her own suicide attempt could wait for another time. Drew’s burden of guilt was hard enough for the moment. They sipped in silence and she saw weariness fill his face. He fell asleep in the chair and she saw no point in disturbing him. Covering him with a quilt, she blew out the lamp and went upstairs.

*

High House was another Oldroyds but untouched by the local council, a private residence set up a long winding drive into Rombalds Moor, overlooking the whole of Whafedale. This solid mansion bearing witness to Victorian grandeur had stables to the side in a cobbled courtyard. Netta had long ago decided that the tradesmen’s entrance was her proper port of call.

She parked the hired van on the gravel and carried her precious cargo in a coffin-like cardboard box. The housekeeper helped her up the stairs to a large dressing room where the cupboards were attached to the wall in the contemporary fashion with mirrors for doors. There was a sink of turquoise enamel and a shower by its side. A separate door led into Ginnie’s own suite of rooms overlooking the valley below – quite the most luxurious apartments she had ever seen. Netta smiled, thinking of her own hurried ablutions in the zinc tub in front of the kitchen range.