Jeanie blushed slightly. ‘He’s never touched me, but sometimes the way he looks at me makes me feel really uncomfortable.’

‘And you’re young enough to be his daughter – bloody pervert!’ Diamond had been very close to her younger sister, Emerald, and was instinctively protective of her niece. ‘You should report him, Ruby.’

‘To whom? If we report him to the police, they’ll just laugh at us. In fact, we’ll probably get into trouble for wasting their time. He’s not done anything illegal.’

‘Yet,’ growled Dixie.

‘Well, what about his boss then? He must have a boss?’ Dolly was on the verge of tears. She had felt his sweaty hands on her body and his hot breath on her neck more than most. Just the sight of him made her feel sick and the only time she felt safe at work was when she was in the water.

‘Yes, Dolly, he does,’ replied Ruby, gently, ‘but I doubt very much that Mr Collins will be sympathetic. Marty is something of a golden boy in his eyes. Since Marty was appointed, guest numbers have doubled, and the books are looking extremely healthy for the first time in years.’

Sara-Jade banged the table in frustration, causing her teacup to shimmy in its saucer.

‘So, what are you saying? That we do nothing? We keep our mouths shut and lie back and think of England like well-trained Victorian wives?’

‘No, of course not. All I’m saying is that if we want to keep our jobs, we need to be careful.’ Ruby despised herself for seeming so defeatist and reluctant to take any action, but on the face of it theirs was a simple but depressing choice between pride and pay packets. She had once seen a tiny blue butterfly with the tip of its wing caught in a spider’s web. As it struggled frantically to free itself, the fragile blue membrane began to tear. But if it gave up the fight for freedom, it would certainly be prey for a passing bird. Damned either way.

Dixie broke a biscuit in half as viciously as if she were snapping Marty’s neck.

‘Well, if he touches me once more, that’s it. He’ll be singing soprano for the rest of his days by the time I’ve finished macerating his meat and two veg.’

Dolly’s eye make-up was sliding down her face in a torrent of tears. ‘You can’t, Dixie. He’ll sack us. And he’s already told me that he won’t give us references, and he’ll bad-mouth us to every other fairground and holiday park owner in England.’