‘Food has been hard to come by lately, Aunt Eileen, so I’ll enjoy every mouthful.’ Blackie glanced at the cottage pie on the table near the sink, then looked at her. He grinned, and breathed in the lovely aromas in the kitchen. ‘And I think ye’ve made something with apples, haven’t ye? I smell apples.’

‘I concocted an apple-and-blackberry stew, which I’ll serve with Bird’s Custard. How does that sound?’

Before Blackie could respond, Patrick said, ‘A feast fit for kings, Eileen.’ Blackie turned and saw his uncle leaning against the doorjamb nonchalantly.

‘I love me room, Uncle Pat,’ Blackie exclaimed, his genuineness echoing in his voice. ‘Thank ye, and do ye know it’s the first room I’ve ever had just for meself.’

‘I thought it would suit.’ Patrick smiled at his nephew, and then cast his glance on his wife, as usual concerned for her. ‘I see you’ve set the table, Eileen, so can we carry in the food, pet?’

‘It would be a great help.’

‘So go on, Blackie lad … Eileen, give me some pot-holders.’

The two men were deft with the dishes and placed them on the table under the window. Eileen followed with the gravy boat. She served them all good portions and told them to handle the gravy themselves.

Blackie decided her simple dish, as she had just called it, was delicious; he wolfed it down and was soon ready for a second helping. He couldn’t believe there was enough food for the three of them and worried about whether there would be more the next day.

Patrick and Eileen exchanged glances from time to time. Everyone ate in silence, except for the occasional murmur of pleasure as they savoured the food.

Once the tea was over and all the dishes cleared and washed, the three of them sat around the fire. It was still cool weather, and the flames took the chill off the evening. Blackie felt his eyelids becoming heavy as the three of them relaxed in the main room drinking cups of tea. It was Patrick who broke the silence.

‘Tomorrow, I thought I should take you around Upper Armley, show you the neighbourhood. Then, on Saturday, we can take the tram into Leeds. How does that sound, lad?’

Blackie sat up. ‘I’d like that, Uncle Pat, and certainly the visit to Leeds … the Great Metropolis! I’ve dreamed of going there ever since the chance of living with ye both was talked about, on the heads of the Blessed Saints, I swear I have.’

‘We are happy to have you,’ Eileen said, meaning every word. She was well aware Patrick had always wanted a son. A small sigh was smothered as she thought of her two miscarriages, her inability to give her husband the children he had craved. A wonderful, loving man she adored, who filled her heart with joy.