When Cyril got out into the main street, however, he began to shout ‘Stop, thief’, and though most people laughed and assumed that the man was referring to the holly the younger boy carried, one or two might have got in his way just for the hell of it, and this, Jimmy realised, could prove fatal for his chance of escape. As soon as he could he shot into a narrow side street, made sure he was out of Cyril’s sight, and dived down the ‘tunnel’ between a row of terraced houses. He ran along the jigger for a short way, vaulted a low and crumbling wall, ran across the yard behind it and knocked urgently on the nearest back door.

For several moments there was no reply, no sign that there was anyone in the house, but even as he heard sounds of pursuit coming along the side street the back door shot open and a woman’s voice said loudly: ‘If I’ve told you once that I don’t want any holly, or mistletoe, or a great swag of ivy, let alone your version of “Good King Wenceslas looked out”, I’ve told you a hundred times. So go away, please, and let me watch my soup, because if it boils over on to the Primus stove I’ll have a fine mess to clear up.’

Jimmy took a deep breath and tried to still the hammering of his heart long enough to plead that the woman would let him hide, but even as he did so she opened the door rather wider and pulled him inside just as Cyril, augmented by another couple of men, probably seamen off his ship, swerved round the corner and stopped short by the back gate which led from the jigger to the woman’s house.

There was a muttered conversation between the men and then they moved on. Jimmy could hear their booted footsteps getting fainter and fainter as they traversed the narrow little jigger. When silence had returned once more, the woman spoke.

‘I expect you could do with a cup of hot soup, though why I should give you anything when it’s pretty clear you’ve stolen someone’s holly I really can’t understand – though why in God’s name they should pursue you just for that I don’t understand either. I’ve not been here for very long but wherever I’ve lived kids have cut holly and sold it on Christmas Eve.’ She chuckled. ‘From the sound of it, you must have chosen quite the wrong place to cut yours.’ She eyed the enormous branch which Jimmy was still holding, and tutted. ‘You foolish boy, why on earth didn’t you drop it? I suppose you could have thrown it in front of them if they got too close. Though it is a very fine specimen, I admit. If you cut all the twigs off and tie them into bundles you’d probably make more money than trying to sell the whole branch.’ She looked keenly into Jimmy’s face. ‘Or wasn’t that the reason for the kerfuffle? I must say . . .’ and here she looked Jimmy over with a very shrewd eye, ‘it doesn’t seem likely. I suppose I ought to turn you out and let justice take its course, but I’d rather hear your story first.’