Despite both her hopes and her hard work, the shop had not proved an instant success. Albert had said it was partly due to the fact that they were underfunded and of course also unknown to most of their suppliers. Understandably, she now realised, these had wanted paying as soon as they delivered rabbits, poultry, white mice and guinea pigs, and she simply had not had the money. She had tried explaining that she would pay up as soon as customers bought, but this cut little ice with people who were in much the same position.

However, Tess had never been afraid of hard work and had slaved away, doing all her own cleaning, feeding and exercising, leaving only ordering and doing the books to Gran, until Snowy’s prediction that she would have no time to herself had proved all too horribly true, and for several dark months she had actually wondered whether she would have to confess herself beaten and put the shop up for sale. But she had struggled on, never allowing her standards to drop, and gradually the business had begun to thrive. Now, at last, she was simply longing to find someone trustworthy who could, for a small wage, take some of the work off her hands and had interviewed several hopefuls, but none had come up to her expectations.

‘Miss? Excuse me, miss . . .’ The small boy grinned ingratiatingly up at her. ‘Can I have a look around while you’re quiet, like? Only pet shops is what I done me presentation on at the end of term. I gorra gold star. Mr Bleckinsop said it were the best out of the whole class.’

‘Of course you can look around,’ Tess said wearily. An idea occurred to her. ‘Tell you what, you name the different species in the cages and aquarium and I’ll tell you if I agree with your teacher.’

She had made the suggestion knowing it would please the kid to prowl amongst the cages, but she had not realised how thoroughly this scruffy urchin had researched his subject. At the end of ten minutes she was regarding her customer with awe. He not only knew the names of every animal, bird or fish in the shop, he knew their countries of origin, the food upon which they thrived, the amount of exercise they needed and their lavatory habits.

At the end of the tour Tess stared at him with admiration. ‘What’s your name?’ she asked. ‘You know more about my animals and birds than any of the people who’ve come here asking for a job. Your Mr Bleckinsop knew what he was doing when he gave you that gold star.’

‘Me name’s Mitch and I’m ten years old, though I’m a bit small for me age,’ the boy assured her. ‘I come in for a goldfish, ’cos that’s all I can afford. Do you sell ’em by size? Only there’s one what’s a sort of pinky-silver colour . . . I got sixpence.’