‘Nonsense.’ He glared at the frightened girl in front of him. ‘Well, I require an explanation.’

Jenny didn’t answer, as large tears began to course down her face at the memories the dress evoked. Her father’s smile as he’d told her how beautiful she was, and her mother’s nod of approval. They’d taken her to Covent Garden that evening. Such happy memories.

‘And how did you come by the diamond and emerald pendant? That cannot have been a gift!’

Jenny remained mute. She had gone through hardship to get away, and if she spoke now it would all have been in vain. They would go straight to her mother. He believed her to be a thief – his mind was made up. And there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

‘Your silence condemns you,’ he snapped. ‘As you are not prepared to give a satisfactory reason why these items were in your possession, then you are dismissed with immediate effect.’

His wife tried to intervene, but he held up his hand. ‘I’ll deal with this. I won’t have staff who can’t be trusted.’

‘But I haven’t done anything wrong,’ Jenny protested, terrified at being thrown out. ‘My father gave them to me –’

‘It’s no good trying to explain now. You’ve had your chance. You may leave at once and thank your lucky stars that I don’t hand you over to the law.’

She reached out to pick up the dress and pendant.

‘Leave those. They will be given to the police to see if they can trace their rightful owner.’

It was over. Her aunt was bound to have searched her things to find out what she had taken, and then told the police to be on the lookout for them. Terror surged through her. The pendant was her only means of raising money. That was necessary because she was going to have to run again.

With a moan of despair she lunged for her precious things, hugging them to her as she rounded on Mr Stannard, fear and anger loosening her tongue. There was little point in pretence now. ‘They are mine. My father did give them to me, but now he’s dead.’

There was a stunned silence in the room. Mrs Douglas, who was still standing by the door, had turned quite pale. Jenny was frantic and spun round to face Mrs Stannard, the words tumbling out without thought. ‘I’ve worked hard for you, never complaining about the long hours, yet you are going to let your husband dismiss me without proof of wrongdoing. I am not a thief!’

In her anguish she had quite forgotten her cockney accent, and the words gushed out in her best Templeton School accent.

‘Who are you?’ Mr Stannard demanded, surprised.

‘My dear,’ his wife said, as she took her husband’s arm, ‘something is very wrong here.’