He went behind the counter and glanced into the stockroom. Elsie and Mitch, armed with scissors, paste, and several jars of poster paint were now busily creating paper chains out of old copies of the Echo. As the two women let themselves out of the shop Albert went into the stockroom. ‘Have you two finished cleaning the cages?’ he asked suspiciously. ‘I know you want to make the shop look festive but you mustn’t forget we’re here to work.’

Mitch looked up and grinned. He had a smear of paste running across one cheek and a blob of bright blue paint on the end of his nose. But he assured Albert that they had finished the cages some time before. ‘Though you’re quite right, Mr Payne; we ought to check the food and water,’ he admitted. ‘Tomorrer Elsie and me is going to cut holly in the country; enough for the flat and the shop, Mrs Williams said. She’s goin’ to give us a bottle of tea and a load of mince pies as well as some sangwidges, it bein’ so cold.’ He glanced around the shop, which was empty, as though there were a dozen listening ears. ‘We’ve not told Mrs Williams, but we’re hopin’ to root up one of them Christmas trees what grows in the woods. We’ve already started making decorations for it whenever Mrs Williams ain’t around so it’s to be our present to her and Tess. Tess’ll be back before Christmas, won’t she?’

‘I expect so,’ Albert said. ‘So don’t you go ruining everyone’s Christmas by being caught nicking a tree and being hauled before a magistrate. Tell you what, I’ll give you five bob to buy one from the stalls on St John’s market. That’ll be my present to you, and your present to the Williamses can be the decorations. What do you say?’

Mitch was agreeing that this would be grand when Elsie raised her head from her work. ‘Trees is everyone’s; you can’t steal a tree,’ she said matter of factly. ‘I don’t see why we’re any different from other people. I ‘member a scuffer chasin’ us when we were nickin’ holly from the big houses round Princes Park, and our dad said holly belonged to everyone ’cos it was only a tree. But the scuffer said we’d made a big hole in the feller’s hedge . . .’

‘What happened?’ Albert asked curiously. He could just imagine Elsie, even tinier than she was today, defying a dozen scuffers to take her holly from her. But this, apparently, had not been the case.

‘Happened? Nothin’, ’cos I headed him in the belly and runned like the perishin’ wind an’ got home afore he had a chance to grab me,’ Elsie said indifferently. ‘We sold the holly, me an’ Mitch, an’ bought oranges wi’ the money.’

Albert grinned; trust Elsie to get away with murder! And even had she been caught he suspected that she would have charmed her way out of trouble somehow. But right now he had work to do. He returned to his counter and began to check on the amounts of various foodstuffs they would need to order before Christmas. Outside the shop the wind continued to whirl the snow into the faces of passers-by and Albert began to feel uncomfortably chilly. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was almost eleven o’clock; how time flew when one was busy! He looked across at the stockroom where the paper chain, lavishly painted, had grown by ten feet since he saw it last. Albert got to his feet and set the kettle, which Edie had filled, on the Primus stove. ‘Elevenses in ten minutes, kids,’ he called. ‘Get out the shortbread!’