‘That was a big sigh. Now I know you have a big worry on your shoulders, Betsy, but I promise I will do all I can to keep your mother comfortable. And you’ve no need to be beholden to anyone for my services. In fact, you can do me a favour. Me and a couple of other doctors in the area are setting up a service for those who can’t afford to pay. It was Dr O’Hannigan who suggested it.’

‘Aye, I knaw him. He’s a kindly man and has been paid in jam and the likes, by me ma and folk around here, for a good while. Only with me ma so poorly, I wanted someone with expertise – aw, I didn’t mean . . .’

‘I know what you meant, don’t worry. Dr O’Hannigan would be the first to admit that us younger doctors have an edge on up-to-date medicine, but he’s an amazing doctor, for all that he is in his seventies, and a very kind man. He’s made us see that we should be doing more than simply what we are paid to do. And to that end, we are going to be holding a free clinic on the last Friday of every month. Now I know that you are covered by Witherbrook’s employees medical-care system, but you can spread the word to those who aren’t. The clinic will be held in the church hall.’

‘That’s grand, Doctor, ta. It will make a difference, especially to the young ’uns and the old ’uns.’

‘And not before time. I’m ashamed of what Dr O’Hannigan has been telling us he comes across. I’ve been shielded all my life from the lives of the poor.’

‘Well, you can make up for it now, and that’s good.’

‘I can. Now as I say, I’ll be back often. But here is my card. You can call on me if you need me at other times, or if I’m not available, I will make sure one of the others comes out to Mrs Parkin. I’ll let them know the diagnosis, and they will have the right medicine with them to keep her comfortable. Good day, Betsy.’

Left alone in the house she’d been brought up in, Betsy was assailed by memories of the happy times of her childhood: of her da, a big man who was loved by everyone and was known as a gentle giant. Looking as if he should have been a labourer, he’d been a baker’s assistant and was known for baking the finest bread. But the fire at the bakehouse had taken him. Betsy shuddered; she’d never let herself think about the fire for long. If she did, she had nightmares about what it must have been like to be trapped inside that searing heat. In a way, her ma had never recovered from losing her big Jack. Well, now she would be going to him, and this thought gave some comfort to Betsy.

Everything was ready for the dinner party, except that one vital member of staff was missing. ‘Where has that silly lass got to? What are we going to do, Cook?’