‘Montel wants to rescue her. To break her out of that place, which is the only way she will ever get out. Harold is determined to have Mags sectioned for life – and believe me, if he chooses to, he can. I can’t bear that. I told you, I like Mags. I have seen her suffer at Harold’s hands, even when she was his fiancée – and I am not talking of Mags finding out that he was setting up a life in London for himself and me, with the intention of only spending the minimum of time up here that he could get away with. Other things happened, too.’

By the way that the doctor didn’t press for further information, Susan suspected that he knew all about Harold’s mother’s death and what had led to it.

‘You told me Montel is a Frenchman and an ex-soldier. Well, this is England, and we don’t go around breaking people out of hospital, as you well know.’

This alarmed Susan. ‘You don’t trust me. And I thought you would be able to help. I thought you would want to help Mags. Please, please, I beg of you, don’t tell a soul why I came to you. If Harold got to know that I was conspiring against him, he would . . . Oh my God, I told Betsy. I went to her, to see if she would help me. I’ve been a fool. She may tell Cook. Harold will kill me!’

‘I’ll talk to Betsy – don’t worry. Now I am sorry, but I cannot help you with your plan. And I would strongly advise you to not carry it through. You will put yourselves in danger, and will probably ruin any chance Mags has of ever getting out of there. If you have any influence over Mr Roford at all, you would be better served trying to persuade him to change his mind about her fate. Now, please excuse me.’

As Dr Lange closed the door on Susan, his sigh was long drawn out, but didn’t relieve the worry the young woman had aroused in him. And yet she had come over as genuine. Yes, he believed her. She had that simple quality about her that didn’t have another side. What you see is what you get.

He looked at his watch. Betsy would be here any minute. She was going into town to meet Iris, and he’d asked her to call, as he might have a message for Iris to give Margaret. He did have one, but now he wasn’t so sure. None of it sat well with him. He was risking so much – his whole livelihood and his vocation – but felt compelled. He couldn’t just sit by and let Harold do this to Margaret. This time the doctor’s sigh was full of hopelessness. Not because he thought his plan wouldn’t work, but because of his real motive. He loved Margaret in a way he knew he shouldn’t. I’ve known her since she was a child, for goodness’ sake. I’m her doctor, and twenty years older than her. It’s immoral. But knowing this didn’t prevent his feelings.