As they got away from London and the countryside took the place of buildings, Jenny’s thoughts went back to the lovely school in Kent. Her friends would be preparing for the start of the autumn term. Did they miss her? Did they understand why she had run away? She missed them and the fun they used to have together. If it hadn’t been for Edna, she would have been desperately unhappy during these last ten months.

‘Don’t look so sad, Jen,’ Edna said. ‘We’re going to have a smashing time today.’

‘Yes, we are.’ She smiled brightly, pushing the painful memories away. She constantly told herself not to dwell on the past, but the thoughts had a habit of sneaking past her guard. She still grieved for her father and was desperately upset that he’d felt he had to take his own life. Although the appearance of a happy family life had been a sham, she had loved him and he’d been kind to her. Her mother hadn’t seemed to care what happened to her, but Jenny couldn’t help but wonder how she was. Living with her sister, Gertrude, couldn’t be a happy experience. At times doubts assailed her. Should she have stayed and tried to help her mother? But the answer was always the same. If she had, she would have been facing the prospect of marriage to Greaves, and that was more than she could have dealt with. It had been her seventeenth birthday last month, and she doubted he would consider that too young! There certainly wouldn’t have been any family opposition. A shudder rippled through her. She’d had to think of her own future, hadn’t she?

The couple in their carriage got out at the station before Brighton, leaving behind their London newspaper. Jenny picked it up, and as she flicked through the pages something caught her attention. She gasped in dismay as she read the announcement: ‘Missing from home since November 1929. Eugenie Elizabeth Winford. Now seventeen years of age; dark hair and brown eyes. Well educated. A reward of £100 is offered for information of her whereabouts. Contact Mr Albert Greaves through the police.’

Jenny dropped the paper as if it were on fire. Oh, dear God!

‘What’s the matter?’ Edna asked, alarmed. ‘You’ve gone white. Are you feeling ill?’

‘They’re still looking for me,’ she whispered in horror.

Edna picked up the paper from the floor. ‘How do you know? Is it in here?’

‘Yes.’ She took the paper away from her friend. Edna knew she had a secret, but she didn’t want her, or anyone, to know who she really was. One hundred pounds was a fortune to most people; it would be a very great temptation. Not that she believed her friend would turn her in, but it was better not to put temptation in her way.