‘Yes, she does,’ Finn answered. ‘Tommy O’Hara gave a message to a friend of his coming to Leeds several weeks ago.’

‘What was the message?’ Jack probed, puzzled.

‘That Moira was to stay at home on Saturdays, because I would go there the first Saturday I was free.’

Mollified a little, Jack turned to Patrick. ‘So, we go into the Ham Shank, find the house …’ He glanced at Finn. ‘You’ve got the address, right?’

‘I have,’ Finn replied.

‘Then let’s go,’ Patrick said. ‘Here’s the plan. We go in, tell her to pack what few things she has and leave, taking her with us. We’ll go to the Blue Door Café for a bite of dinner, then take her directly to Mrs Wilson’s house in the Towers. Agreed?’

‘Agreed,’ the three of them said in unison.

‘One thing,’ Jack began, as they walked across the road. ‘Let’s avoid trouble. The thugs are bound to shout insults and slurs. Ignore them. Don’t answer. Don’t speak at all. Keep your eyes open, lads, and be alert, sharp-witted. We must not get into a brawl. Our aim is to rescue that young woman unharmed, and scram.’

‘Well said!’ Patrick exclaimed, and covered his mouth as he marched forward alongside Blackie.

When they arrived at the edge of the Bank, the four men paused and put their handkerchiefs in their pockets. All of them gagged for a few seconds; the stench was stronger here, almost overpowering. Each wondered how long they would last in there.

Patrick said, ‘Let’s get this over fast. You take the lead, Finn, and get us to the house. It smells putrid in the Bank. I want us out in a few minutes.’

‘I’ll take the lead, ’course I will,’ Finn muttered, and covered his mouth with his hand.

‘There are three chaps in their shirts and braces, sitting just ahead of us on a broken wall, smoking, holding what look like tin cups. Ignore them, walk past them,’ Jack warned. ‘Whatever they say.’

‘I bet that’s not tea in the tin cups,’ Blackie muttered. ‘Booze, most likely.’ His head filled with sudden memories of the times he had spent here, relieved to be free of this place once and for all.

The four of them launched themselves into the Bank, moving at a fast pace, staring ahead. Fortunately, the three men ignored them. They looked weary, hungover, and out of sorts. Patrick thought they didn’t have an ounce of fight in them. Poor sods, he thought, they hardly have a life. It must be rough for them. Work. Booze. Struggle. They’d never know happiness.

Finn explained, ‘Here it is, Green Street! Let’s look for number eight.’ Within seconds the four of them were standing in front of the door to one of the small back-to-back houses, next to a narrow alleyway.