Albert buttoned his coat and reached for the door, handle. ‘If you want to muck in with the rest of us and become one of our extended family, as Edie calls it, then we’ll start as we mean to go on. No more lies or evasions, just the plain unvarnished truth.’ He opened the door, and despite the fact that the staircase led into the storeroom and not into the open street the cold wind swirled in, making him catch his breath. But he turned back for a moment nevertheless. ‘You silly child! Very soon now you won’t be able to button that smart coat, or fasten the zip at the side of your tweed skirt. So why lie, when the truth will out? Come to the pet shop when you’re ready to go up to Brougham Terrace, and I’ll show you the way. After all, Liverpool has changed considerably since you went away.’ He opened the door whilst Janine was still muttering, shut it on her complaining voice and clattered down the stairs. At supper the previous evening he had returned to the subject of finding a couple of rooms or even a small flat for his daughter, meaning it as an enticement, a way of giving her some independence. But it was soon clear that she had seen it as a threat, and now Albert decided that if she tried to make trouble or interfere in any way between himself and Edie then he would use that threat to good effect. Smiling grimly to himself, he crossed the stockroom, turned on the lights, for it was indeed a nasty snowy day, and began to open up. He unlocked just in time for Mr Clarke, who looked like a mere bundle of clothes as he entered the shop almost at a run and began to unwind his layers.

‘Phew!’ he said. ‘Horrible day, Mr Payne, sir. You’re lucky you don’t have to go out to get to work . . .’ He eyed his employer thoughtfully. ‘Or do you? I see you’re togged up for the weather. I take it you’re off somewhere?’

Albert nodded and thought of the warm pet shop, where the heating would have been on all night. ‘Blow the expense, it’s a necessity, not a luxury,’ Tess had said. And, Elsie had added, it would also prevent the tortoises from hibernating.

But Mr Clarke had shaken and furled his umbrella and was staring at Albert, plainly waiting for a reply to a question which Albert could not even remember.

‘Are you off out?’ Mr Clarke repeated. ‘It ain’t a day for customers, not even them who’ve not yet bought all their Christmas cheer, so I doubt we’ll be very busy, even if the snow eases up.’

‘I am,’ Albert confirmed. ‘Oh, you’ve met my daughter; she’ll be down later and will probably go straight to the pet shop. All right? The float’s in the till and there’s money in the drawer under the counter in case you have a delivery, though most of our suppliers are paid by cheque.’ He headed across the shop towards the outside door. ‘I’ll be back around one o’clock so’s you can have a bite of lunch,’ he finished, letting himself out into the street.