Albert had been relieved. He was old-fashioned enough to believe that the festivities should include attendance at both midnight mass and morning service, and would have felt cheated had Christmas been celebrated at any time other than 25 December.

Now, instead of going straight to bed, for it was still early, he lit the oven and opened the door so that the room speedily became comfortably warm. At this time of night it was never worth lighting the fire, which would scarcely have had time to get going before he had to let it go out, but the oven was a good substitute.

Reminding himself that he would have to be up betimes next day, for he and Edie had agreed to take turns to open the pet shop whilst Tess was away, he settled himself at the kitchen table and was reaching for a biscuit when the bell rang. Cursing beneath his breath he went over to the window and peered down, but could see no one. ‘Bloody kids. If I could get downstairs quietly enough I’d open the door and give the little blighters a thick ear,’ he muttered. ‘But as it is . . .’

The bell sounded again and this time, when Albert went over to the window, he saw a dark figure, unidentifiable in the faint street light, whose face, a pale disc, was turned up towards him. An adult, anyway, though not one with whom he was familiar. A neighbour perhaps? It was unlikely to be a customer and he knew it wasn’t Edie. But it was no use wondering; he would have to go down, since the man below – if it was a man – must have seen him peering out. Albert took one last look round his warm and welcoming kitchen and began reluctantly to descend the stairs. He crossed the stockroom, clicking the electric light on as he went, unlocked the door and pulled it open.

In the bright light his caller blinked and moved back a step, and Albert saw that it was a woman wearing a dark winter coat and a felt hat pulled down over her eyes. He began to ask her whether she had rung his bell in mistake for someone else’s, but she cut across his words, her voice thin and reedy. ‘Aren’t you going to invite me in? It’s bleedin’ freezin’ out here and I’m just about done in. I’ve been on the go for days and days . . .’

She started to step forward, but Albert moved in front of her. ‘I’m very sorry, but I’m sure you’ve made a mistake,’ he began, but the woman ignored his words and pushed passed him, snatching off her hat as she did so.

‘Don’t say you don’t recognise me,’ she said. She pushed her hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ears, then pointed an accusing finger at the shop door, which Albert was about to close. ‘You’ve left me suitcase outside; wharrever are you thinking of? All me worldly goods, just about, is in that suitcase, so I’ll have it in out of the street before someone makes off with it, if you don’t mind. Come on, Dad, shake a leg!’