Gus lay back, docile and limp. It worried Peg far more than if he was complaining. He pushed aside picture books and models. It hurt his neck to bend and all he wanted was Yumpy to suck. He asked if Auntie Netta would tell him a Viking story. Seemed to think she was still here, rambling on. His temperature was up again and he was sweating, his pulse racing. Peg brought a bowl and face cloth and began to sponge his forehead, trying not to panic. Perhaps this was not a normal fever after all. She peered out of the window to the winding track, willing some cheery body to reassure her. She prided herself on not bothering the doctor for trifles, especially on the Sabbath. Where was Angus where she needed him?

For all her nursing experience, Peg was nonplussed by Gus’s symptoms. He seemed to have gone very weak and floppy and it was as much as she could do to force liquid down his throat. Suddenly she was feeling very unsure and very alone. A strange feeling was burning into her, as if something terrible was about to happen, as if something was going to change their life forever. If only Angus hadn’t gone to church! But Gus had seemed fine when he had left. How everything seemed to change in just a few hours!

Alone with time on her hands, she began to frighten herself with lists of complications, the worst of which was meningitis. But there was no rash or spots, no obvious localised stomach pain. Peg racked her basic medical knowledge for some simple explanation. It must be gastric flu, some virulent form of infection. All that stravaigin’ with Netta… perhaps she too was suffering the symptoms.

For the first time in years she searched through the address book for the telephone number of the Bloom woman in Leeds and put in a trunk call to reassure herself. A woman answered. ‘Mrs Bloom, how can I help you?’

‘I’m sorry to trouble you but could you get a message to Netta, Mrs Hunter, please?’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t know her whereabouts… Who’s speaking?’

‘Peg Nichol from Stratharvar. You once stayed with us in the war. She left us yesterday and she was heading straight home, or so she said.’

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Nichol. I’ve not seen Jeanette for months. Is anything wrong? She has her own business now, try ringing there.’

‘I’m not sure of the number. I’d like tae check something out with her. Sorry to have troubled you.’

‘Not at all. So glad to be speaking to you, Mrs Nichol, after all these years. Don’t worry, I expect her motor’s broken down or something.’

‘It’s no her I’m afeared for!’