Glenys looked at the older woman more closely. She had a large hooked nose, shrewd little eyes behind blue-tinted spectacles, and a thin-lipped mouth which made Glenys think uneasily of rat-traps. She was not a prepossessing figure, but Glenys told herself firmly that it was wrong to judge by appearances, and began to make the speech she had rehearsed as they walked towards the blue curtains. ‘I’m so sorry that I was unable to contact you earlier in the day . . .’

Mrs Hughes cut her short. ‘You’ll be wanting two rooms, right? I’ve a little slip of a room for the boy, just a bed and a washstand, and a double which you can share with the girl. I does a good breakfast and can provide an evening meal for an extra couple of bob a head. But cold it is in here; follow me.’

She led them down a dark corridor and into a brightly lit kitchen, sat them down at the table and began to make a pot of tea, producing some homemade biscuits and offering Mo a glass of warm milk. The largest black cat Mo had ever seen was sitting on the hearth rug, apparently staring at a picture which hung on the wall. Mo gave a frightened squeak. ‘Them’s witches!’ she said. ‘They’s wearin’ witches’ hats!’ Then she pointed at the cat. ‘And he’s a witch’s cat . . . oh, Auntie Glenys, I don’t want to stay here.’

Mrs Hughes gave a creaky little laugh. ‘We don’t wear those hats no more, cariad, even on Sundays; that’s a real old picture that is. I’ll tell you the story behind it one day. And me cat’s not a witch’s cat, either. He’s Solomon Grundy, ’cos he were born on a Monday. Only if you’s scared of cats . . .’

Mo promptly flung herself on her knees beside the cat and Mrs Hughes started forward in alarm, but then relaxed as the big animal began to purr for all the world like a tractor. ‘He likes you,’ she said as the child began to stroke the huge domed head. She turned back to Glenys. ‘Now, to business.’

By the time Glenys had seen Jimmy into his ‘little slip of a room’, helped Mo to undress and put on her cotton nightie, and asked Mrs Hughes what time she would like them to come down to the kitchen for their breakfast, she had begun to think they had fallen on their feet.

Next morning they sat down to porridge and boiled eggs, as well as tea and toast, and the saga of the supply teacher who was supposed to have come to take the place of Miss Teleri Jones was explained, and Glenys’s own position made clear. Both Miss Jones and the supply teacher had succumbed to the measles, leaving the school with no teacher at all. ‘But a school with only one teacher?’ Glenys had exclaimed in astonishment as the other woman explained the situation. ‘I didn’t know such things existed; good Lord, this is the twentieth century, not the nineteenth! But as it happens I’m a teacher, and I’m looking for supply work. And, of course, I’m on the spot. I noticed there was a public call box quite near the station. If you could furnish me with the telephone number of the Education Department, perhaps we could come to some arrangement.’