Violet Gillies sat in a chair with her right cheek to me. She wore a black dress with silver buttons. Pearl-headed pins glinted in her hair which was teased into curls at the nape.

Although she knew that I stood there, she took a while to turn and, when she did, I had to hide my shock. In profile, there was nothing to hint at the scars that she wore on her other cheek.

I was not quick enough to conceal my reaction and for the briefest of moments, something in her irises flickered – displeasure or pity, I could not tell which. She rose and motioned for me to sit.

‘It’s lovely to meet you at last, Elspeth.’

She must have been in her early to mid-thirties with clear eyes and a high, smooth forehead.

With a finger, she touched the burned skin. ‘This is something I have lived with since my sixteenth birthday. I’m accustomed to the response it brings.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

‘It was an accident.’ There was compassion in her tone. She knew the circumstances that had led to my taking the position – the tragedies that had chased me into my own particular corner.

‘I’m sorry I was not able to meet you yesterday. I hope you were comfortable last night.’

‘Thank you, yes.’

She laid her ringed hands upon her lap as if punctuating the end of her enquiries. ‘I can’t tell you how welcome you are. It’s been a demanding time. Mary’s mother, Evangeline, passing early this year, and then William. Their father died a long while ago – there are so few of us left now.’

‘That is very sad.’

‘Sad and difficult. I’m not used to children and their ways. We’ve managed somewhat between us since Hettie left, but I have been keen to fill her position. As I explained in my correspondence, you will find us more informal than on the mainland and we have reduced ourselves to using only as much of the house as we need. All the same, we manage nicely.’ Although her tone was assured, there was a look of entreaty in the tight anticipation of her features.

‘I’m happy to be here,’ I said.

‘At nine years, I know Mary is a little old for a nanny, but her specific needs demand it.’ She picked at the edges of the chair. ‘I’m sorry to have to tell you now – perhaps I should have let you know in my letters – but she has not spoken since the day she lost her brother. I had hoped by the time you arrived that might have changed, but regrettably no.’

‘Not one word?’ I did not admit that I was already in possession of this information.

‘Not a syllable. It has been a heavy trial for all of us.’ I could feel the concentration of her focus and I slightly adjusted my impression. Violet Gillies had steel in her marrow.