But Janine was looking from face to face, the beginning of a puzzled frown creasing her brow, and Albert remembered that he hadn’t mentioned Mitch or Elsie when discussing the pet shop. Hastily, he took the dripping umbrella, shook it out and furled it, then took Janine’s hand. I was just telling Mrs Williams here that you had come home,’ he said. ‘This is Mrs Edith Williams, Janine, an old friend of mine.’ Edie, who had been sitting on the chair behind the counter, got to her feet, gave the newcomer the benefit of her friendliest smile and held out her hand.

‘How do you do, Mrs Da Silva,’ she began, but Janine interrupted at once.

‘Please call me Janine. I don’t want to hear the name Da Silva ever again,’ she said. ‘In fact I want to put the past few years behind me and return to my old life. I expect my father has told you that I worked in one of the big stores, modelling gowns. It was a well-paid position, so if I can find something similar . . .’ she turned to smile at Albert, ‘but for the time being I mean to housekeep for my dear old dad, and help out in the shop.’

Edie murmured something appropriate but Albert felt distinctly uncomfortable. He was aware that Edie must know as well as he did that his daughter had never modelled clothes for anyone, not whilst she was in England at any rate, and now she was expecting him to accept and indeed verify the story she had chosen to tell. Immediately, it occurred to him that if she was prepared to fib so blatantly over one thing she was probably equally prepared to fib over another. He thought back over the story she had told him about her life in America and realised that even at the time it had not altogether rung true. But Janine was being charming, accepting Elsie’s offer to show her around the shop and tell her all about the animals and birds whilst Mitch and Mr Payne got on with the real work.

Albert watched as, hand in hand, the two bent over a cage in which three tabby kittens rolled and played. ‘Oh, the darlings!’ his daughter was saying. She poked a finger through the wire and withdrew it hastily as one of the kittens pounced. Then she straightened and took Elsie’s hand once more, moving along to the next cage. ‘Tortoises; and very nice ones too,’ she said. ‘Don’t they go to sleep in the winter, though? I think it’s called hibernation.’

‘They only do that if you let them get cold,’ Elsie said instructively. ‘Would you like to give them a lettuce leaf?’

Janine took the proffered greenery, poked it through the wire and moved on to the next cage. ‘Them’s guinea pigs; we’ve already sold ’em to a very nice lady what wants them as presents for her grandchildren,’ Elsie said. ‘But we’re keeping ’em until Christmas Eve, else the kids would find out what they’d got before the day itself.’