Which was maybe just as well, as Tammy didn’t know where she was going either.

There was a vast armchair beside her. She sank into it, perching Henry on her lap so she could look at him properly.

The little boy gazed back up at her, and then his gaze returned to the window. Windows were more important than people, his expression said.

‘Henry?’ It was a faint whisper against his cheek, but the child didn’t respond.

‘He doesn’t answer to his name,’ the nanny said, as if it was something Tammy should know. ‘He’s only ten months old.’

That didn’t make sense. ‘He’s sitting up,’ Tammy said. He’d been sitting in his cot as they entered. ‘Is he crawling?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Then surely he should know his name. If he’s crawling that means he’s developing fine.’

‘I guess,’ the nanny said indifferently. ‘He’s pretty advanced.’

‘But he still doesn’t respond. Does he say anything?’

‘No. Why should he?’

Why should he indeed? The little boy’s stare was lack-lustre, as if he was bored with what was before him. Maybe if Tammy had been staring at the same view for weeks on end…

‘Do you play with him?’ Tammy asked, and watched as the girl cast a furtive glance at her novel.

‘Of course I do.’

‘Of course nothing.’ Her fury was mounting, until she felt like hitting out. She was hugging the little boy to her, and that stopped her raising her voice, but her fury was barely disguised in her whisper. ‘This isn’t normal.’

‘I’ll get him a proper full-time nanny when we return to Broitenburg,’ Marc told her, and Tammy could hear the uneasiness in his own voice. He knew what the problem was. ‘Kylie was employed via an agency and the situation was urgent. I was lucky to get her at short notice.’

‘So he’s been with Kylie, or someone like her, since his parents died?’ Tammy was stroking the little boy’s curls, trying to find some sort of response from him. ‘Or longer. Has he been with nannies since birth?’