‘Oh.’ She reddened slightly. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean . . .’

‘She’s in an internment camp.’

‘Oh. Right,’ Edie said again. Then, after a pause: ‘What’s the difference?’

I thought for a second.

‘Most of the people in internment camps are there because of who they are or what they believe, not for anything they’ve done,’ I said. ‘People go to prison for committing crimes.’

‘Right,’ she said again. ‘I see. So your mum hasn’t done anything?’

‘No,’ I said, ‘other than be born in Germany.’ Perhaps if I said it out loud it would help it to be true. I was ignoring the voice of Pinstripe in my head: Sometimes, good people do bad things . . .

‘Well, that’s a relief, then,’ Edie said with a big smile. ‘So she’ll be coming home, then?’

I nodded, but when I tried to say Yes, my mouth wouldn’t open.

There was a jingle and slam from the fishmonger’s shop next door and, a second later, we saw Kipper Briggs skulk past the bakery window. He wore his black fisherman’s hat pulled low over his brow, and the collar of his waterproof coat was turned up. His chin was tucked in against his chest, and his eyes were focused on the wet pavement beneath his feet. He looked smaller than he usually did – as if he had shrunk somehow.

‘Kipper’s very upset, of course,’ Edie said.

‘I’m sure he is,’ I said, and was surprised at the pang of genuine sympathy I felt for him. I knew how terrible it was to see someone you loved being taken away from you. That tearing feeling in your chest. And the shame too – the police car, the gossiping crowds.

‘He’ll be taking on the family business now, I suppose. Reckon it’ll be the making of him – a bit of responsibility, and that bullying dad of his out of the way. Under all that nonsense and bluster, Kipper’s a good lad really.’

I thought about Kipper and wondered what sort of boy he would have been if he’d been lucky enough to have had a Pa like mine. Maybe it wasn’t too late for him.

‘Thank you so much, Edie,’ I said, standing up at last. ‘I feel better for that biscuit, but I’d better get on with the shopping. Pa will be wondering where his paper has got to.’

‘Oh,’ she said, ‘I can save you the penny for the paper at least. Take this one, Pet – I’ve had a look already this morning and there’s nothing in it to speak of.’