Olivia listened with interest, wondering who it was the boy had such beef with. She waited for the other person’s response, hoping that they would shed some light on the matter, but the boy continued to talk before his companion had a chance to respond.

‘He thinks he can do what he wants because it’s him what pays our measly wages,’ he fumed. ‘The whole thing’s a damned joke if you ask me. The old git gives with one hand and takes with the other, paying us to work for him then taking it back through the rent he charges for his run-down, rat-infested, damp-riddled slums.’

Olivia gently nibbled the inside of her bottom lip. The man he was describing sounded very much like her father. The Campbells were used to disgruntled workers visiting the house to air their grievances, but they normally came on their own. Her father might be a miserable so-and-so, but he was getting on in years, and two against one wasn’t fair on any man. She frowned. Whoever the boy was talking to seemed unwilling to make a contribution to the conversation. As he drew nearer to the house, she decided to see for herself just how many of them there were.

She walked along the length of the hedge until she came to a gap where an old gate once stood. Crouching down, she peeped through the sparse branches as she waited for the boy to draw level. Much to her surprise, he appeared to be on his own. Not wishing to be caught spying, she quickly ducked back down out of sight, but she was too late. The boy stopped abruptly and turned to face her, then stepped forward and peered through the gap in the hedge. ‘Hello?’

Olivia kept quiet, hoping that he would believe himself to be mistaken and move on, but instead he edged closer to the small gap and looked through. She tried to make herself as small as possible, but in doing so she caught his eye. He pointed at her. ‘I can see you!’

Olivia looked up in embarrassment. ‘I wasn’t spying! I live here,’ she said defensively. She stood up and indicated the house just visible through the trees.

He looked past Olivia to the large white house much further up the garden and blew a low whistle. ‘Blimey! You must have a penny or two!’

Her cheeks turning pink, she averted her gaze. ‘Not me, my dad.’

‘Who’s he? William Campbell?’ He laughed, expecting her to laugh with him, but seeing the stony expression on her face he stopped short, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously in his throat.

‘Is it him you’re mad at?’ Olivia asked tentatively.

He swallowed before turning on his heel. ‘I’d best be off.’