Cissie shook her head. ‘I’m afraid she’s just worn out,’ she said softly. ‘You must remember she had a very hard life until she came to live at Treetops, and even then she worked harder than anyone I know. She’s been a mother to dozens of children as well as her own.’

‘I know,’ Livvy sniffed. ‘But she still has so much to live for. We are all grieving for Kathy, but we have Eva now, and little Edward, surely that should give Mum the will to live?’

‘Ah, but she knows that Eva has a mummy and daddy who love her more than life itself, and Edward has David,’ Cissie pointed out. ‘And your mum is old and tired now. She still misses your father so much, so let’s just do what the doctor said and see how it goes, eh? It could be that she’ll rally round.’ But knowing Sunday as she did, deep down Cissie doubted it.

For the last few days she and Livvy had taken it in turns to stay with Sunday throughout the night. It was Cissie’s turn next and, as darkness fell, she took her place at Sunday’s bedside and lifted her knitting – she was making a little matinée coat for Eva. For some reason, though, Sunday seemed unnaturally restless and talkative that night so Cissie put the knitting aside and pulled her chair closer to the bed.

‘We’ve had a long and good life, haven’t we, Cissie?’

‘Aye, we have. It ain’t always been an easy one but we got by,’ Cissie agreed with a nod of her head. They talked of their past then, going right back to the awful time they had spent in the Union Workhouse in their childhood. They spoke of the joy when Sunday had been finally reunited with her mother, Lady Lavinia, and of the night they had found their Kathy’s mother on the doorstep of Treetops. It all seemed so very long ago now and so much had happened in between.

Slowly the evening shadows filled the room. It was early October and there was a nip in the air at night now and the first leaves were beginning to flutter from the trees. At one point, Livvy came in with baby Eva and Giles to say goodnight and Sunday kissed her beautiful new granddaughter affectionately.

‘May she grow in beauty and grace,’ Sunday whispered as they turned to leave the room.

‘Don’t talk like that, Mum, you sound as if you’re never going to see her again,’ Livvy scolded gently and after planting another kiss on her mother’s wrinkled cheek they quietly left the room.

‘I reckon it’s time to draw the curtains an’ put the light on now,’ Cissie said, feeling vaguely uneasy as she made to rise from her chair, but Sunday shook her head.