Opening his mouth, he prepared to launch into song. Horrified, Amy grabbed him by the shirt collar. ‘You do, and I’ll throw a bucket of water over you!’

‘Let me in then?’

Fearful the neighbours had seen him, Amy glanced nervously up and down Victoria Street. It was a long, cobbled street flanked by tiny terraced houses, filled with ordinary God-fearing folk who had nothing and wanted nothing.

‘Did anyone see you knock on my door?’ she asked edgily.

‘No, but if you don’t let me in they will – I’ll make sure of that.’

‘You always were a rascal!’ But the smile in her voice made him take heart.

Amy’s busy eyes scoured the street. At the top end, Maggie Lett was arguing with the tiresome old man who lived next door to her. About halfway down, old Jimmy Tuppence was chalking his wonderful cartoons on the drying pavement, watched by a gang of snotty-nosed kids; and only two doors away, a young window-cleaner was scampering up his ladder and whistling to his heart’s content.

Amy was relieved. None of them seemed to have noticed her visitor, thank goodness. ‘Come in then!’ Taking hold of his collar with both hands, she gave an almighty tug, jerking him into the passage and almost choking him in the process.

‘Bloody hell, Amy!’ Red in the face he quickly undid his shirt. ‘There’s no need to throttle me.’

‘There’s every need!’ Quietly smiling to herself, Amy led the way down the passage to the back parlour. ‘Five minutes,’ she warned. ‘I’ve got a fire on but, you know what it’s like… winter or summer, these houses are never warm.’ As he came into the parlour she repeated her warning. ‘Five minutes, and no more.’ Curious but wary, the children remained on the bottom stairs and peered through the banisters. ‘I’m hungry, Mam.’ Small and mischievous with vivid blue eyes, Milly was six going on ninety.

‘Take the children up to bed, Lottie.’ Amy’s anxious gaze went to the older girl. Despite her hazel eyes and long fair hair, Lottie’s beauty was only skin deep. At fifteen years of age, she already betrayed a sly and greedy nature, together with dangerous ambitions far beyond her station. Her more gentle, loving side was currently submerged by the moodiness of adolescence. ‘We’re not tired,’ she answered sulkily.

‘Tired or not, it’s half past eight and you’ve to help Bob Sutton in the fishmongers in the morning.’

‘I don’t want to go,’ Lottie whined. ‘It stinks to high heaven there!’

‘Stink or not, you’ll be there by seven-thirty, same as usual. We need every shilling we can muster and well you know it, my girl!’ Wagging a finger, Amy reminded her, ‘You’d best do as you’re told. Your dad will be in soon, and you know what he’s like if you’re not in bed by half past eight.’

Lottie was persistent. ‘It’s Friday. He won’t be in till late.’ She regarded Jack craftily. ‘Anyway, he won’t like you having strangers in the house.’