Miss Trent shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea. But since we have no other clues, and you intend to leave Liverpool anyhow, we might as well run to Wales as anywhere else. Since your dad was probably already in the merchant navy and based in Liverpool when he met your mum, her family’s farm might not be all that far away.’

When Frank returned from work Jimmy put him in possession of all that he had missed, and then the four of them settled once more around the kitchen table and began to plan.

‘We’ll be travelling by train, so we don’t want to burden ourselves with unnecessary luggage,’ Miss Trent said. ‘Oh, and by the way, please call me Auntie Glenys, because I think that if anyone asks I should say you’re my nephew and niece, and we’re trying to get in touch with our Griffiths relatives because, although it’s probably just talk, they do say there’s a war coming.’

‘Huh!’ Jimmy said. ‘Wharrabout peace for our time an’ old Chamberlain telling everyone there wouldn’t be no fightin’? If you ask me we’ve enough to worry about on our own account, without someone startin’ a war—’

Glenys cut in. ‘We’re supposed to be deciding where and when we take off for pastures new. Anyone got any suggestions?’

‘Pastures new,’ Mo said longingly. She grabbed Jimmy’s arm. ‘Don’t that sound nice, our Jimmy? It’s like that song they sings in church sometimes: “Sheep may safely graze”. Sheep and lambs graze on pastures, ain’t that so? Will there be sheep where we’re goin’?’

‘Maureen Trewin, if you don’t stop chattering you can jolly well go to bed and leave us grown-ups to discuss what’s best to do,’ Jimmy said severely. ‘Just button your lip, understand?’

Maureen, far from being cast down, grinned cheekily at her brother. ‘Shan’t say another word,’ she promised. She got up from the table and went over to the curtained window, making herself a little spy-hole so that she could look out at the passers-by, for it was another mild night and though the pavement was by no means crowded there were a few people still about. ‘I say, Frank, when you came home . . . Oh, oh, oh . . .’ She dropped the thick curtain back into place and turned a white and frightened face towards the rest of the company. ‘Jimmy, it’s him! Perishin’ Cyril Huxtable! He’s comin’ along the pavement headin’ straight for this house!’

‘Then gerraway from the perishin’ window,’ Jimmy hissed. But Frank took his dark greatcoat and peaked cap off the hook and put a finger to his lips.

‘It’s probably just a coincidence, someone what looks like Cyril,’ he whispered. He jerked a thumb at Mo. ‘But the littl’un won’t sleep until she knows for sure that Huxtable ain’t found you. Shan’t be long.’

He disappeared from the room, shrugging into his coat as he went, and they heard him unlocking the front door and issuing forth into the moonlight. Jimmy moved over to the window and bent his head, listening. Presently he beckoned to Glenys, who joined him at once. ‘D’you think Frank might not be as nice as he seems?’ he murmured. ‘If so, we’re dead ducks.’