‘He is, and I’d love to get my own back on him, but what chance have the likes of us got against the toffs?’

‘Well, Jenny, as long as you don’t ask me any questions, I might be able to help you to get your revenge.’

‘Oh, yeah? How?’ Jenny asked, looking intrigued.

Sarah reached into her handbag and pulled out the wrapped package. She placed it on her lap, and gently unfolded the handkerchief to reveal the missing jewellery.

‘Oh, for the love of God, where on earth did you get that lot from?’

‘I found them down on the river banks, nearly buried in mud, so I reckon that Godfrey was pinching the stuff then throwing it over the bridge.’

‘Sarah, you’re a genius. I always said you was clever. Are you thinking of giving it to me to take back?’

‘Yes, well, sort of,’ Sarah answered.

‘But how can I get them back to Mrs Alderton-Steele without her thinking I nicked them in the first place?’

‘Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan. I just need you to give me a good description of Godfrey and, if this works, I promise you he’s going to get his comeuppance,’ Sarah said, going on to tell Jenny what she had in mind.

An hour later, Sarah was knocking on the door of a terraced house not far from her own. A timid-looking young woman poked her head around. ‘Yeah?’ she said.

‘Hello, I’m Sarah. Are you Doreen?’

‘Yes.’

‘Doreen, do you mind if we have a little chat? I believe you work for Mrs Alderton-Steele and you’re having a bit of bother with her son Godfrey?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ Doreen said, and looked scared as she went to close the door in Sarah’s face.

‘Wait,’ Sarah said, and pushed against the door, ‘I’m here to help you.’

‘You can’t help me, nobody can,’ Doreen said.

‘Trust me, I really can,’ Sarah insisted, ‘but you’ve got to let me in and talk to you first.’

Doreen slowly opened the door, and Sarah followed her up the hallway and into the kitchen. A baby was sleeping in what looked like a drawer placed on top of the kitchen table, and the sink was overflowing with dirty dishes. Wet washing was hanging on the back of the door and on a line which stretched across the room. Sarah’s eyes settled on several empty beer bottles, and she thought of her mum.

‘They ain’t mine, it’s my husband who likes a drink. Keep your voice down, he’s passed out in the front room,’ Doreen said, pulling her cardigan closer around herself.