It was pretty, with a flowered bathtub, matching pedestal, tank and sink. It was more convenient than having to use the bathroom in the hall, which catered for the rest of the rooms on this floor, with the exception of the one Magnus called his own. The bathroom she luxuriated in had been installed for the use of Mr John’s wife and daughter. They’d bathed in the very tub in which she now soaked. ‘I wish you’d both lived for him, but you didn’t and now I hope you’re all together and enjoying the reunion. He missed you both so much,’ she whispered. Coals glowed in a little black fireplace set into the wall, and around that was a fireguard with towels hanging over it to warm. Steam glazed the walls. Feeling drowsy, she closed her eyes and thought about Mr John. She tried to imagine him as the master here, living a happy life with his wife and child and not expecting it to end, then . . . tragedy! Her mind moved on to the goldfields, of the privation they’d suffered. Had he blamed himself for this loss, and chosen to deprive himself of luxury as punishment?
