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biscuits?’
    Mrs Partington laughed. ‘Of course. That’s what I promised you, isn’t it?’
    A moment later a young woman in a grey dress and a white pinafore appeared with a tray. She laid it on a small table near the fireplace.
    â€˜Eat your fill, sweetheart,’ Mrs Partington said, ‘and then I shall read you a story.’ She gestured towards a small bookcase. ‘Those are my books,’ she said. ‘I’ve had them since I was a child, and now I shall give them to you.’
    Elsie looked at the books and for a moment the beautiful room, the comfortable chairs and the warm fire faded as she remembered Helen reading to her by torchlight as they huddled under the bedclothes to keep warm. She remembered that they had been halfway through the latest book that Helen had borrowed from the library. ‘Have you got The Secret Garden ?’ she asked.
    â€˜Why yes, I have! Do you like that book?’
    â€˜I do.’
    â€˜How wonderful! That was one of my favourites when I was a little girl. Oh, Elise darling, I see we shall get on famously.’
    After she had finished her supper Mrs Partington drew Elsie on to her knee and began to read to her and, although she was interested in the story, the warmth and the confusing events of the day made her yawn.
    â€˜Bed for you, my pet,’ Mrs Partington said. ‘But I promise you I shall go on with the story tomorrow.’
    Elsie had been settled amongst the soft pillows and covered with sheets that smelled of lavender, and a silken eiderdown. Mrs Partington leaned over and kissed her brow. ‘Go to sleep, little one,’ she said and Elsie, wanting to please her, had closed her eyes obediently.
    She had heard the door open and she thought Mrs Partington was leaving but instead she’d heard another voice. A man’s voice. He and Mrs Partington stood near the bed and talked together then they moved away a little. What she’d heard of the conversation had made Elsie more confused than ever.
    Now as she gazed around the room she could hardly believe the pretty lady wanted her to stay here with her. And Helen? What of Helen? Mrs Partington had told her that her sister wanted her to look after her, so it must be all right. Helen would never send her to anywhere where she might be unhappy. She wondered if she would see Helen soon and tell her how lovely this was.
    Elsie yawned. She wanted to lie down and go to sleep but there was something missing. Maisie. Maisie the doll that Helen had made for her from a pair of old socks. She had stuffed the socks with scraps of material, embroidered a smiling mouth on the face and sewn on two blue buttons for the eyes. Maisie’s plaited hair had been made from yellow wool and her dress from a piece of blue and white gingham left over from the kitchen curtains. Elsie took Maisie to bed with her every night.
    Where was she? Surely Helen wouldn’t have let her leave without Maisie? Elsie got out of bed and looked all around the room. She even looked under the bed but Maisie wasn’t there. She would have to go and ask Mrs Partington. She opened the door hesitantly, stepped out on to the landing and almost bumped into Susan, the young woman who had brought her supper on a tray.
    â€˜Goodness, child, where are you going?’
    Elsie looked up at her fearfully to see whether she was cross. She was relieved to discover that Susan was smiling.
    â€˜I’m looking for Maisie.’
    Susan frowned. ‘There isn’t a Maisie in this house.’
    â€˜Maisie is my doll. Didn’t she come with me?’
    â€˜No, there was no doll. Just you.’
    â€˜Oh.’ Elsie thought for a moment. ‘Then I’ll have to go home and get her.’
    â€˜Well, not tonight you’re not. Now come along. Let’s put you back to bed. It’s a good job I came up to collect that tray or you’d be wandering about and making people cross.’
    â€˜Would Mrs