The only sounds coming from Jenny were in the early morning when she could be heard retching in the water closet. One morning it got to be so bad that Mrs Delaney was prompted, with an assumed air of innocence, to ask of Kate when the latter brought in her early cup of tea and biscuits: “Is Jenny not too well this morning, then, Mrs Kinnon?” Keeping a poker face, Kate laid the tray down on the bedside table. “Oh, nothing for you to worry about, Mrs Delaney. Just a wee bilious attack, I think. She was very prone to them as a bairn, you know, and I have heard it said that you never really grow out of them.” Even as she spoke the words, Kate already knew herself to be lying in her teeth. Bilious attack, did I say? Humph. That will be right. But at least there is one thing true ... there is nothing for you to worry about, Mrs Delaney. But plenty to keep my mind troubled for many a long day, if I’m not far mistaken. Even so, and despite the telling sounds each new morning, with Jenny in her present dark and uncommunicative mood, no words were spoken between mother and daughter, and certainly no reference was made to the subject uppermost in the minds of both women.
