“I walked in, without so much as an invitation, sat down on the floor in front of the committee, and started turning my dishcloth this way and that and chanting, ‘Unfair dismissal. Making tea was my job. Unfair dismissal. Making tea was my job.’ ” She grinned excitedly at Dan. “It’s got a good ring to it, hasn’t it?”

“And did they take any notice?”

“They certainly did. I disrupted the whole meeting.”

“Well done, you, Mum. I’m really proud of you.”

She dabbed at her eyes with the handerkerchief once more. “But then, I can hardly bring myself to tell you what happened next, Dan.”

“Well, if you can, I would very much appreciate it.”

She took in a deep breath. “I was evicted.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Thrown out I was, Dan. Like an intruder in my own block of flats.”

“And who was brave enough to carry out the eviction?”

“Stan Beardsley from the Fabric Committee. Dan, he used to be a commissionaire at the Hyde Park Hotel. I didn’t stand a chance. I mean, it was like calling in the professionals. He lifted me bodily from the floor and put me down in the corridor.” Her face crumpled, and in that instant, Dan realized where Nina had inherited her aptitude for looking totally miserable. “And I haven’t spoken to anyone since. I have been sitting in my little flat over the past four weeks without so much as one knock on the door.”

Dan looked at her, a frown creasing his forehead. “What do you mean, the past four weeks? Haven’t you been staying at Clapham?”

“No, dear, I have not.”

“But who’s been looking after Millie and Nina?”

“I suppose Jackie,” she replied tartly.

“But Jackie works, Mum.”

“I know she does, dear, but she said”—she faltered—“she said that she could manage without me.”

“She never did.”

“She said that she never wanted me in the house again.” Battersea Gran wrung her handkerchief in her plump little hands. “I’m sorry, Dan, I didn’t mean to tell you that. I know that she’s your wife, but we just had our differences, and try as I might, I could never seem to do or say the right thing.”

Dan put his head in his hands. “Oh, Mum, I’m so sorry.”

“No, dear, it was probably my fault all along.”

“No, it certainly wasn’t.” He dropped his hands onto the sofa and turned to look at her. “Listen, Mum, this is not very easy to tell you, but . . . Jackie has left me.”

His mother’s face expressed such immediate compassion that he felt like jumping to his feet and kneeling down in front of her and burying his head in her huge, pink-sweatered bosom. “Oh, Dan. What an awful thing to happen. And you did love her so much.”

Dan shook his head. “You’re right. But I’m afraid ‘did’ is probably the operative word.”