He sighed deeply.

‘Channing, on the other hand, resembles the proverbial dog’s dinner-as is only to be expected under the circumstances. We’re expecting Dr Morel any moment with the results of Mrs Davenport’s tests. He should be able to give George a shot to put him out of his misery.’

He shook his head sadly.

‘Never try and outrun a Dobermann. It awakens their atavistic instinct to mutilate prey.’

There was the sound of a car drawing up outside.

‘Ah, I expect that’ll be Jim now,’ Anderson remarked.

He gave Dorothy a sympathetic smile.

‘You’ll naturally be anxious to learn your fate as soon as possible, Mrs Davenport. Is the cancer rampaging through your body like a forest fire out of control, sweeping all before it, or is it at present confined to a specific organ or member which might conveniently be gouged out or lopped off? That’s the question we’re all asking ourselves, and I’ll let you know the answer just as soon as Jim’s patched up old Channers. Meanwhile do help yourselves to tea. For your own sake, I would strongly advise you to try and avoid making too much mess. Judging by what I found floating in the loo this morning it’s Letitia’s time of the month, and you know how touchy she can get, particularly after a stressful day like this. Bye-eee!’

With a cheery salute, Anderson walked out. One by one, the residents got up from their chairs and formed a silent huddle around the tea trolley, where Belinda Scott took possession of the pot.

‘Right!’ she barked. ‘From the front, in alphabetical order! Ayres?’

There was an awkward silence.

‘Isn’t he dead?’ muttered Grace Lebon eventually.

‘Miss Scott to you!’ rapped Belinda.

Leaving Dorothy slumped in her chair, her head tilted to one side as though to hear better, Rosemary walked over to the trolley.