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Occasionally her mother returned from London to join them and there was an attempt at gaiety, at real family life. Lily had known that it was an pretence and had the same sense now. Perhaps the Abbots weren’t the model couple everyone thought them to be. She would have liked to believe in them and the idea depressed her. Sean was no help. He seemed more dazed than usual, shovelling food into his mouth with a fork, his eyes on his plate.
    When she had first met them Lily had thought Win and Daniel the most together couple she had ever seen organized, hard working, still idealistic. Not a bundle of laughs, she’d had to admit from the beginning. Not exactly fun to be with. They took themselves and everything they did too seriously for that. But successful in every way. Now she wasn’t so sure. Something about Daniel gave her the creeps and Win never seemed happy.
    Lily supposed that professionally they were doing well for themselves. They had that in common. She had heard the story of their conversion to alternative medicine many times. Both, for different reasons, had been interested in health since childhood. Daniel’s father had been a consultant neurologist and Daniel had enjoyed the reflected glory, the status, the power. He had applied to medical school himself but had been turned down. These days nepotism could not overcome mediocre exam results. At the interview it had been suggested that he go in for nursing but that would hardly have provided the same rewards. He’d drifted for a while after that, travelled. Subsidized by affluent and indulgent parents he’d made it out to India, joined second-generation hippies seeking enlightenment had his consciousness raised. Or so he claimed. Came across the idea of natural therapy, took to acupuncture like a duck to water. It was logical, he said. It made sense. And it made him feel useful.
    His parents were sceptical but determined to be liberal. He was their only son. They funded his training at the Traditional Acupuncture College at learning ton Spa. When he set up in his original practice they paid the first six months’ rent and when he and Win moved to Mittingford they paid the deposit on the house. The venture at the Old Chapel soon flourished. He was everything his patients required in a practitioner grave, calm and authoritative. He wore a white coat and they treated him as an old-fashioned family doctor. He encouraged them in the belief that he was infallible.
    Win’s childhood encounter with medicine had been as a consumer. Her father had died, when she was a baby, of one of those strange genetic disorders for which there is no cure. She had suffered dreadfully from asthma and eczema. In the playground she wheezed and scratched and was picked on by other children. Her mother was a remarkable woman who had survived bereavement without bitterness, but she was determined not to lose her child too. Win was dragged along to a variety of doctors, all of whom diagnosed her illness as psychosomatic. Only after she consulted a homoeopath did the condition improve. Both mother and daughter were instantly converted to the benefits of complementary medicine. The mother, as she admitted wryly later, rather went overboard. She went on numerous courses, took up strange diets and settled for a while on reflexology as her preferred method of healing. Throughout Win’s adolescence their house was filled with unfamiliar people who exposed their feet to her mother’s gaze. It was quite natural for Win to follow in the same path. She had never been a natural rebel. She believed, quite literally, her mother’s assertion that homoeopathy had saved her life, and saw it as her mission in life to spread the word to others.
    In time Win’s mother had moved on from reflexology to re birthing Now she was an establishment figure in the movement, an old hand, regarded as a guru and a leader by the younger people who followed her. She had written widely and had been featured in the