‘But warrabout me cloves?’ He stared down at the bundle of rags on the bathroom floor worriedly. They were all he possessed.

Holly knew they were too far gone to be salvaged, in fact they were so ragged they would undoubtedly fall apart if they were washed. ‘Don’t get worrying about those. When you’re better and you go home we’ll find you some smart new ones,’ she told him cheerfully.

Thankfully the better-off local people donated clothes their own children had grown out of so there was usually a selection of good second-hand garments for the children who were admitted to the hospital to wear.

Robbie seemed to accept this. In fact he looked quite pleased at the prospect of new clothes so he allowed her to lead him to Mary Ward where a bed had been prepared and the sheets turned back for him.

Once he was tucked in Holly asked him, ‘Will your parents be coming to visit you tonight, Robbie. I bet they’ll hardly recognise you, you look so lovely.’

She thought for a fleeting moment that she saw the hint of a tear in his eye as he quickly looked away and shook his head.

‘I ain’t gorra dad, an’ me mum goes out most nights. I ’ave to keep away while she fetches ’er men friends ’ome an’ not go back till they’ve gone.’ He started to cough again then so Holly went away to fetch his promised treat, her heart aching with sadness for him.

He was watching for her expectantly when she came back and when he saw the thick wedge of cake and the milk, his eyes lit up greedily.

He had cleared the lot in seconds and asked cheekily, ‘Any chance of anuffer slice?’

Holly smiled at him indulgently. There was something about this little chap that struck a chord in her. ‘Not just yet. But it’ll be dinner time soon. I think Cook has done a cottage pie, mashed potatoes and vegetables, then there’ll be rhubarb crumble to follow.’

He nodded and slid beneath the sheets and by the time she carried the tray back to the kitchen he was sleeping like a baby, tucked up warmly in a clean bed for the first time in his life.

‘So how is young Robbie Smith?’ Matron asked a short time later. She was on the way to see him prior to the doctor doing his rounds.

‘He’s got a dreadful cough and his temperature is sky-high,’ Holly informed her.

Matron nodded as she glanced down at his notes. ‘Hmm, I wonder if we shouldn’t consider having him admitted to the workhouse if we can get him better. Poor little boy would be a lot better off there than living with his mother, by all accounts. At least he’d be fed and have a warm bed to sleep in. His mother is a, er … prostitute and has no time for him according to the neighbour who brought him in.’ She shook her head regretfully. ‘Apparently he’s just left to roam the streets half the time, he’s had no schooling, nothing. But anyway, let’s go and have a look at him. I hear he gave you a bit of a bad time while you were trying to bath him?’