Relieved, I smiled at Daisy. ‘Hello, darling – are you on the mend?’ I went to sit by her and felt her forehead. ‘She’s a bit warm, but as you say, her temperature’s settling, isn’t it? That must’ve been the worst of it yesterday.’

‘Let’s see if she’ll have some soup.’ Lisa settled the other two children at the table and then went to the door.

‘Sid!’ she yelled into the dark yard. ‘Get ’ere!’

We heard running feet outside and Sid Blakeley tore into the room, his cheeks raw from the cold. He was ten now, his brown hair cropped very short, face pinched, with not a trace left of his baby chubbiness. He had on grey shorts and a jumper and Birmingham Mail charity boots which looked weighty on the end of his bony legs.

‘Say summat to Miss Munro,’ Lisa ordered.

‘ ’Ullo,’ Sid said, eyes on his bowl. He sat perched on the side of the armchair which was pulled up to the table. He was dunking bread into the soup and cramming it into his mouth.

‘Oh,’ Lisa groaned, ‘I give up.’

‘Leave him.’ I smiled. ‘He’s hungry. Looks a healthy lad.’

Automatically Lisa handed me a cup of her tea which was as unpleasant as ever, but I drank it, standing by the range, waving away Lisa’s apology at the shortage of chairs.

‘This should do ’er good, shouldn’t it?’ Lisa spooned soup into Daisy’s mouth. ‘Albert,’ she snapped suddenly at one of the small boys. ‘Get your spoon off Danny’s ’ead.’

‘Albert? Is that after your father?’

Lisa gave a mirthless chuckle. ‘No fear. No cowing use to anyone ’e wasn’t – ’scuse my language. No – Prince Albert. I always liked the pictures of ’im. Thought ’e were ever so ’andsome.’

For a few moments there was silence as she concentrated on the little girl. The boys were intent on their soup. She got up to give them more bread and a minute scraping of jam. I looked round the room. Clothes were hanging drying in every conceivable place – chairbacks, picture frames – and the atmosphere was steamy.

Lisa’s house was hardly a model home, but I could detect a certain personal order among the chaos. She had after all had to run her family home from a young age and brought up her brother and her own children.

She smiled as Daisy finally pursed her lips and turned her head away from the spoon. ‘She’s ’ad a good go at it.’

‘Marvellous,’ I said, smiling slightly as I caught myself sounding like Marjorie Mantel. ‘That’s a good sign. She’ll soon be up and under your feet again.’

Lisa yawned, then laughed. ‘Sorry – it’s not the company.’

‘You must be exhausted.’

‘Thanks for looking in,’ Lisa said. She gestured to the boys to get down from the table and they disappeared outside. Then she looked carefully at me. ‘You all right? You look a darn sight better than the last time I saw you.’