Behind them, Lottie threatened the children with sudden death if they so much as whispered. ‘I’ll be listening,’ she warned, ‘and if I hear them floorboards creak, I’ll be up here and tan yer arses, so help me!’ Her warning was enough to keep them quiet, for the time being at least.

Downstairs, Frank was coming to his senses. It was six-thirty in the morning, the time he usually got up for work. He recalled what Lottie had begun to tell him about Amy’s visitor, and he remembered how, when pressed, she had fought with him at the top of the stairs, sending him all the way to the bottom.

Muttering and mumbling, he paced the floor, punching one fist into the other, occasionally going to the bottom of the stairs and listening for her approach. ‘I can wait,’ he whispered wickedly. ‘You see to the brats, then I’ll see to you!’

The minute Lottie approached the room he was waiting for her. With a swift, unexpected move he had her by the ears. ‘You were telling me about this man who came to see your mam.’ Snatching her into the room, he slammed shut the door and pinned her against it. ‘You didn’t tell me everything though, did you, eh?’

Like all bullies in the face of danger, Lottie was terrified.

‘Leave me alone!’ Wishing she’d had more sense than to open her mouth in the first place, she began to panic. ‘He came to see Mam, and that’s all I know.’

‘Don’t you lie to me, girl!’ He tugged her to him, his voice low and sinister. ‘You told me how he’d come to take her away. He kissed her, that’s what you said. What else did you hear, eh? I know you’d have hid away where they couldn’t see you… spying like you always do.’ Cajoling now, he chucked her under the chin. ‘What did they talk about, Lottie? Tell your dad now, there’s a good girl.’

‘I never heard anything else.’ Even now, trembling with fear, Lottie’s quick mind could see a way to make herself some money. ‘He went away,’ she said. ‘Our Eddie messed himself and Mam had to send the man away.’

Unsure, Frank shook his head. ‘You’d better not be lying to me.’

‘Honest to God, Dad, I wouldn’t.’

‘This man… what did he look like?’

‘He were kind of old – same as you. He had dark hair, but it were a bit grey in places.’

‘What were his name?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘His name!’ Bringing his fist up he clouted his daughter hard across the head. ‘Tell me, or I’ll knock the living daylights out of you.’

Reeling from the blow, Lottie looked at him with hatred. ‘I think Mam called him Jack,’ she answered sullenly.

‘Jack!’ Stepping back a pace he relaxed his grip. ‘Jack who?’

‘Just Jack, that’s all I heard.’

‘About my age, you say?’

Still seething, Lottie nodded.

‘My God!’ Shocked to his roots, he stared into her face. ‘There’s only one Jack that I know of, and that’s Jack Mason… one of your mam’s fancy men from way back.’