When, some ten minutes later, Emma and Nelly were seated in the pleasant comfort of the drawing-room, with the tray duly placed on the table between them and the door closed against intrusion, Nelly picked up on the argument of Emma wandering Corporation Park alone. ‘Why ever don’t yer let me come with yer, darlin’?’ she asked in between long, noisy gulps of her tea. ‘Yer really shouldn’t be going about them narrow little walkways all on yer own.’

Emma considered Nelly’s argument for a while, before explaining in a firm and serious voice how she needed to be on her own occasionally, and how these frequent walks through the park were as good as a tonic to her. Although she dearly valued Nelly’s companionship, there were times when she craved solitude and peace. ‘Times when I can quietly contemplate and assess the way of things,’ she said to the anxious Nelly.

Nelly put down her cup, at the same time closely regarding Emma. ‘Did you go to the cliff face, Emma gal?’ It was a delicate and daring question, but one she needed to ask.

At once, Emma was on the defensive, deliberately ignoring Nelly’s pointed question. ‘I think we’re in for a storm,’ she said, replacing her own cup on the table and getting to her feet. ‘I’m going to my room for a while, Nelly. Marlow should be home within the hour… we can talk then, if you like?’ She despised herself for walking out on Nelly’s company. But she despised even more the prospect of being ‘interrogated’ by a persistent Nelly, who meant well, but whose questions were painful to Emma.

‘Go on then, darlin’… you go and put yer head down fer a while.’ Nelly realized she had frightened Emma away, and she was angry with herself. ‘I might even do the same meself,’ she chuckled.

‘Bless you, Nelly… you’re a good friend.’ Emma reached out to take Nelly’s hand in her own. There were so many things she wanted to say. So much that she needed to confide to this dear woman who had been like a sister to her. Oh, they had often talked for hours, of the past and their many adventures. They reminisced about years ago and the people who had crossed their eventful lives. She and Nelly had laughed and cried together; they had despaired and hoped together. There had never been anything between them that was awkward, or secret, or forbidden. Until now.

Nelly clung to Emma’s small, slim fingers. She had seen the pain in her beloved Emma’s eyes and she hated this terrible thing that was splitting them asunder. Like Marlow, she feared for Emma’s peace of heart. Now, as she looked up with bright, tearful eyes she asked softly, ‘Will yer not talk ter me, darlin’?… Stay and talk ter me, eh?’

‘Oh, Nelly, Nelly!’ Emma gazed down at the round brown eyes that were now encased in soft, wrinkly folds of flesh. She remembered them when they were young and vivacious, rudely alive with mischief and following everything that wore a pair of trousers; always shining with that very special love that had grown between her and Emma over the years.