Em did as she was advised, glad suddenly of Edna’s practical nature when she couldn’t think straight.

‘Go on, love,’ Norm said, when she came down.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘You do what you’ve got to do. Robbie’ll be all right.’

Em looked gratefully at him. ‘Thanks, love – but I’ll be back soon. Thanks, Edna. Come on, Vi – let’s get over there.’

Bob had been taken to Dudley Road Hospital.

‘I could see in his eyes how frightened he was,’ Cynthia wept when Em and Violet got back to the house. She and Joyce were sitting at the table, both red-eyed. Cynthia dabbed her face with the hem of her apron. ‘He’s never been in a hospital in his life, except when I was – you know – when I was in there. But that was different. And that place . . . To him it’s still the workhouse. I hated having to see him go in there.’

The three girls exchanged looks. They all hated the thought of it too.

‘We must tell Sid what’s happened,’ Cynthia was fretting. She got up and then sank back down again, wanting to busy herself with something, but unable to think what.

‘Just sit down and have a rest for a bit, Mom,’ Em said. She felt older and, as usual, as if she was the one who had to take charge. ‘Tell us what happened?’

‘It just came on, when he came in from work – gradual like. He couldn’t seem to find his words to start with, and then suddenly the side of his face went all sort of twisted and funny . . .’ More tears came as she recalled it all. ‘He was all mithered – I could see there was something really bad wrong with him. I said, “Bob, what is it? Can you tell me?” And I could see he couldn’t . . . That was when I sent Violet down to the phone box . . . Oh!’ She looked round at them all, frightened. ‘I don’t think he’s going to come home!’

The next days were spent waiting, taking it in turns to visit the hospital with Cynthia.

The first time Em visited the hospital she felt sick with nerves. They went through town, and it would have been nice, a trip out with her mom on their own, had it not been for something so sad. The day was warm, but drizzly, the sky grey and oppressive. They walked along the Dudley Road together in summer frocks and cardies, sharing an umbrella.

‘Mom, your bag keeps banging against me.’

‘Sorry – here, I’ll put it on the other arm.’ Cynthia had a string bag containing some offerings for Bob, including bananas that Em had got from Mr Perry and a few sweets.

‘I don’t like it round here much,’ Em said, peering out. ‘Gives me the creeps.’

In that small area just north of the centre of Birmingham, the hospital, which had once had the workhouse attached to it, the prison and the asylum had all been built huddled together, almost like one vast and forbidding red-brick institution. The asylum in particular brought back too many dark memories, though Cynthia had never been in this particular one.