Relieved by unloading her bombshell, Jonquil began to move about the forlorn little shop, examining books.

The hot water pipes gurgled as they had done for ten years.

It was not the end of the world. Thanks to Emma’s years of extreme beneficence, Rachaela had managed to save a little, and now there was some interest which would tide her over, perhaps until the new year. The child was an expense, of course, but she seemed up to date with her garments, her school trips.

Lyle and Robbins were advertising for staff again. Perhaps that would do. Or there was the antique shop in Beaumont Street, only one flummoxed woman who was always shutting for ‘ten minutes’.

Not a problem.

Rachaela remembered how Mr Gerard had fired her, and how relevant and ominous it had been.

Things were different now. Or she was.

On Thursday, her half-day off from the shop, as Rachaela was sitting in her chair listening to Tchaikovsky ballet music, the door sounded.

‘Yes?’

‘Oh Mrs Day. It’s Miss Barrett. Perhaps you remember me?’

‘No, I’m afraid not.’

‘From Ruth’s school.’

‘Yes?’

‘I need to see you about something.’

Rachaela recalled Miss Barrett, just over a year ago, the scrubbed clean face and essential glasses. Terry Porter and his knee.

‘You’d better come up.’

Miss Barrett entered the flat in a strawberry-red coat with a white fur collar, a yellow wool hat and brown fur gloves without fingers. She carried a pink umbrella.

‘Oh, Mrs Day. So glad to catch you in.’

‘Please sit down.’

Miss Barrett sat in the chair, and Rachaela sat down on one of the hard chairs by the table.

Miss Barrett shed her gloves and hat.

‘What a nasty day. I shouldn’t be surprised if we were in for some more snow.’

‘What has Ruth done now?’ said Rachaela.

‘Oh dear. It’s always such a worry, this sort of thing,’ said Miss Barrett. ‘Mr Walker thought, as I’d come to see you before, it would be best if I came again. We don’t like to make too much of it. Unless it goes on, of course.’

‘What has Ruth done?’

‘It’s really what she hasn’t done. She hasn’t been coming to school, Mrs Day. I take it you haven’t been keeping her at home and just not sent a note? We must always have a note, you see. There’s a lot of colds about, I know.’

‘Ruth never gets colds.’

‘No. Well then I take it she isn’t here.’

‘She isn’t.’

‘Mrs Walker thinks that she saw Ruth in Woolworth’s.’

What a mundane place for the escapee to be. Why Woolworth’s? Sometimes when Rachaela shopped in the Saturday lunch-hour, Ruth went with her, and into Woolworth’s too, never showing a symptom of interest in the toys, sweets or loudly drumming music section.