‘Gina, good morning,’ said Mrs Stellion. ‘How prompt you are for Coco’s walk. I do like people who are reliable. You’ve even got his lead handy. Now, if you walk him around the garden for twenty minutes, clean his feet, then back up here for biscuits, that will be fine.’

‘Yes, Mrs Stellion,’ said Gina, hoping there would indeed be biscuits, though she suspected Mrs Stellion meant for the dog.

She fastened the lead on the puppy’s collar and walked him down to the hall, then slipped out through the front door and down the steps to the gravel. This was, after all, Coco’s home, even if it wasn’t hers.

She led him round the house to the back, meandering in and out of the different parts of the garden, opening doors and gates to see what was what, memorising which areas were most suitable for the dog and which were of more interest to herself. When they got to the back they played a while on the grass with a stick Gina had found.

Soon Tom appeared wheeling a gigantic green lawn mower.

‘Hello, Uncle Tom,’ Gina called.

‘All right, lass? Looks like that dog needs a ball to play with.’

‘You’re right. I don’t know if he’s got one. I’ll have to ask Mrs Stellion.’ She laughed at the idea of Mrs Stellion running about on the grass throwing a ball for the energetic puppy. Of course, that was the very reason she was here.

Tom bent to fondle the puppy’s ears and he barked delightedly, loving the attention. ‘Nice little dog,’ Tom said. ‘I may know where there’s summat he can play with. Come and find me later.’

‘Thank you, Uncle Tom,’ said Gina, and scampered after Coco, who was now heading for the flowerbed. ‘Coco, come here, you little beggar …’

Tom watched her go. In some ways she resembled the carefree and undisciplined puppy, he thought. Gina was all right, but not steady like Nell. He had to admire the way she’d got herself this dog-walking job, though. However she’d managed it, it had been fast work. He made a mental note not to underestimate his niece Gina.

Edith Stellion looked out of the morning-room window at Coco playing with the stick the Arnold girl had found for him. Her husband, George, came to stand beside her and they watched together in silence. George glanced at his wife and saw that she was smiling at the antics of her little dog running around with the new girl – what was her name? Not Ellen … Gina? – but at the same time there was sadness in her eyes. He knew what she was thinking.

‘She’d have been about that age now, wouldn’t she?’ he said. ‘Clarissa.’

Edith nodded. ‘Seventeen next week.’

‘Of course.’

They stood quietly watching for a few more minutes.