It had been over two weeks since Sarah had visited Mrs Alderton-Steele’s house. She knew she had to go to see Jenny to tell her what had happened, but so far guilt had held her back. She had decided not to mention the reward money. Jenny had a good home and a job so she was hardly in a desperate situation, while she had Tommy to think about. He was frequently poorly with his chest and living in a damp room didn’t help. Some of the substantial amount Mrs Alderton-Steele had given her would go into finding them a decent place to live, and more of it would be used to repay George. She also had what she thought would be a profitable plan, and was hoping to get George on board too.

It was a Saturday morning and her day off when she at last plucked up the courage to see Jenny, and now she was walking up the three flights of stairs to her flat. Tommy began to ask questions. She hadn’t wanted to bring him back here, but Mo was busy spending precious time with Samuel.

‘Are we going to see our mum?’ Tommy asked. His little face was screwed up in consternation, and his voice was barely a whisper.

‘No love, she doesn’t live here any more. I told you earlier, we’re going to see my friend Jenny.’

‘Where does Mum live now then?’

‘She lives in heaven with the angels and my good friend Mr Sayers.’

‘If she lives in heaven, does that mean she went to her forever box?’ Tommy quizzed.

‘Yes, Tommy, she went to her forever box and now she’s in the sky.’

Tommy seemed satisfied with her answers and happily skipped on ahead. She was pleased to see that the discovery of their mother’s death hadn’t upset him. In fact, it hadn’t seemed to bother him at all.

Tommy knocked on Jenny’s door and was greeted warmly by Mrs Turner.

‘Hello, young man, look at you, you’ve grown. Is your sister standing you in horse manure?’

‘Hello, Mrs Turner,’ Sarah said. ‘Yes, he’s shooting up quicker than I can keep trousers on him. Is Jenny home?’

‘Yes, pet, come through. I can see you’re doing a fine job with that child, so well done, ’cos I know it can’t have been easy for you. Jenny tells me you’re working in Bosco’s grocers. I’ve not been in there for years, but you’ve landed on your feet there. Mr Bosco is a lovely man, and so was his late wife. There’s some squash made in a jug, go through and pour some for yourself and Tommy while I give Jenny a shout.’