There were the regular check-ups with the local doctor, who assured her that Hetta was ‘holding on’. And there were the further check-ups at the hospital, where Sir Elmer Rylance would make kindly noises.

‘I promise you Hetta is top of the list,’ he told her once. ‘As soon as a suitable heart becomes available…’

But day followed day, week followed week, and no heart ever became available.

If it ever did happen she knew she would be called at home, yet she couldn’t help a glimmer of hope as she and Hetta entered the cardiac unit for their April appointment. It was two months since she’d last been here and glimpsed Andrew Blake from a distance. In that time she’d managed to persuade herself that she’d imagined it.

There was a new nurse today, young and not very confident. She ushered Elinor and Hetta into the consulting room and seemed taken aback to find it empty.

‘Oh, yes,’ the nurse said quickly, ‘I should have told you-’

‘It’s all right,’ came a man’s voice from the door. ‘I’ll explain everything to Mrs Landers.’

She knew the voice at once, just as she had recognised his face, despite the years. As he closed the door behind the nurse and went to the desk Elinor waited for him to look at her, braced herself for the shock in his eyes.

‘I apologise for Sir Elmer’s absence, Mrs Landers,’ he said briskly. ‘I’m afraid he’s gone down with a touch of flu. My name is Andrew Blake, and I’m taking over his appointments for today.’

He looked up, shook hands with her briefly, and returned to his notes.

He didn’t recognise her.

After the first shock she felt an overwhelming relief. Only Hetta mattered. She had no time for distractions.

He talked to the child in a gentle, unemotional voice, listened to her heart, and asked questions. He didn’t talk down to her, Elinor was impressed to see, but assumed that she understood a good deal. Hetta didn’t disappoint him. She was an old hand at this by now.