Patrick shook Finn’s proffered hand, also smiling, and then led Finn into the main room. ‘Nice to see you, my lad,’ Patrick said. ‘Come and sit with us.’

Blackie was standing in front of the fireplace, which was not blazing up the chimney today. It was a lovely warm June Sunday, and outside there was a bright blue sky and sunshine.

Stepping forward, Blackie gave Finn a friendly punch on the arm, and asked, ‘Would ye be liking a lemonade?’

‘Thanks, Blackie, I’d enjoy that.’ Turning to Patrick, he went on, ‘Thank you very much for inviting me for Sunday dinner. It’s my favourite, but I don’t get it very often. I’ve been looking forward to it all week.’

Patrick added, ‘It’s mine too, my lad, and Blackie’s, and you’re in for a treat. My wife’s a wonderful cook.’ Glancing behind him, and then stepping towards the kitchen, he asked, ‘Can I tell the lads what’s on the menu, love?’

Eileen came to the doorway. ‘Certainly you can,’ she answered, laughter echoing. Patrick announced, with something of a flourish, ‘First course will be a Yorkshire pudding, one each, served from oven to table as fast as possible, so it doesn’t sink. With gravy, of course. Main course is my favourite, a leg of lamb, with roasted potatoes, boiled greens and carrots. Gravy, as usual, and mint sauce to top it off.’

‘A feast indeed!’ Blackie cried and moved across the kitchen. ‘Do ye want lemonade, too, Uncle Pat?’

‘I will have a glass, please.’ Patrick took Finn to the sofa, where they sat together.

Patrick peered at Blackie’s best friend, and then frowned. ‘Do I detect worry in your eyes? Is something wrong, lad?’

Finn nodded. ‘I’ll wait for Blackie to come back, then I’ll tell ye, Mr Kennedy.’

Blackie heard this, and returned with the lemonade on a small tin tray.

Once they had their glasses in their hands, Blackie said, ‘Come on then, Finn, spill it! What’s wrong? I can see ye are troubled.’

After a quick sip of lemonade, Finn said in a low tone, ‘It’s about Gwen. She never went home last night. Alf came to tell me early on this morning, very edgy. Then he went back to get her mother. Mrs Turner was upset, crying and wailing. She and Alf had gone to the police station in Wortley Road. I expect they’re still at the station.’

Patrick exclaimed, ‘What are you saying, Finn? That Gwen has disappeared?’

Finn nodded. ‘In the blink of an eye.’

Blackie said, ‘Seemingly into thin air. Ye see, last night, when Alf went to pick her up from her house, to go to the dance hall, her mother explained she’d just left, gone on her own.’

‘I see. When the plan was they’d go together, is that it?’ Patrick asked.