Mo glanced at the clock. ‘It’s nearly five o’ clock . . .’ she began, then stopped. Glenys had heaved the covers up over her shoulders and was clearly fast asleep once more.

Mo sighed. Probably Witchy was just going to use the privy, and yet . . . and yet . . . the cat had said the phone call was urgent; suppose the old woman was up to something? It was Mo’s duty to find out what.

She slipped out of bed and padded across the lino to where the long cardigan lay on top of the chest of drawers. She pulled it on, wishing she had some slippers, for her feet were growing colder with every moment. She was tempted to get back into bed, but curiosity now forbade her abandoning the adventure. She stood on the landing looking down the flight of stairs, and heard the click of the latch as their landlady entered the parlour. She did not attempt to shut the door behind her, but shuffled across the room, sank into a chair and unhooked the telephone from its perch on the wall. She gave a number as soon as the operator answered, but since she gave it in Welsh Mo was no wiser. In fact, she was beginning to turn away when Mrs Hughes spoke into the receiver. And she spoke in English!

Mo crept down the rest of the stairs and slid into cover behind the coat rack which stood close to the parlour door. What on earth was Mrs Hughes doing telephoning someone in the middle of the night? But she was very soon to find out, as an irascible voice at the other end said loudly, in the way of the slighty deaf, ‘What? What’s that you say? Who’s phonin’ me at this bleedin’ unearthly hour? Is that you, Lizzie? If so, what the devil do you mean ringin’ at this time in the morning?’

‘I’ll tell you why I’m ringing,’ Mrs Hughes said. ‘Remember you telled me your mate what’s married to a policeman said there were a hue and cry out after a couple of kids what had gone missin’, believed kidnapped, an’ a reward offered for information what leads to them bein’ found? Well, sis, I do believe I’ve been harbourin’ them kids for the past two weeks, not knowin’ they weren’t legit.’

The other speaker said something Mo couldn’t quite catch and then Mrs Hughes broke in. ‘Yes, I know – there were no mention of a teacher. It never occurred to me they weren’t what they claimed to be until this evenin’, when the boy came back late from sledgin’ with his mates. They thought I was safely tucked up in bed so they took over my kitchen.’ Here Mo distinctly heard her grind her teeth. ‘Never asked, of course, but they had what you might call a bit of a conference. I were about to go in and ask what they thought they was doin’ when I heard the name Huxtable, which was who your mate said was wanting to find them. So I stayed me hand and heard the teacher say somethin’ about goin’ back to Liverpool one day because they couldn’t spend their whole lives running away.’