Let him be there, she silently prayed. Please let him be there.

Ailsa Bridge answered the phone. Rose asked to speak to the captain. ‘Who is calling?’ asked Ailsa.

Rose thought quickly. ‘His cousin, Miss Shalott.’

Harry came on the line. ‘This is your cousin, Miss Shalott,’ said Rose quickly. ‘Our uncle Bert is in trouble again, the old rip. The police commissioner in York has summoned him this morning. He must have been drunk and breaking windows again. Added to that, a certain Lady Blenkinsop has put in a complaint against poor old Uncle because she says I was rude to her and all because she wanted me to sing at her house, just like a common chorus girl. Too, too sickening. Do help Uncle Bert, please.’

‘Where are you telephoning from?’

‘Such a quaint little wooden kiosk. You know Mama will not let me use the telephone and she says that Uncle Bert should he left to his own devices.’

‘I’ll deal with it right away. Are you well?’

‘Oh, yes, very well. Thank you.’

Rose replaced the receiver. ‘Let’s hope he gets to the commissioner in York in time, Daisy.’

Bert stared miserably at his shiny regulation boots as he sat outside the commissioner’s office. He would do anything to avoid losing his job. But Kerridge had sworn him to secrecy.

At last a police officer emerged from the commissioner’s office and said, ‘Go in now.’

Bert, with his helmet tucked underneath his arm, went in.

The commissioner, Sir Henry Taylor, was a bluff, red-faced man. ‘Sit down, Shufflebottom,’ he said. ‘You must be thirsty after your journey. Tea?’

Bert blinked in surprise, too startled to speak.

‘I know, you’d probably like a beer. Tretty,’ he said to the attendant police officer, ‘fetch Mr Shufflebottom a beer and bring me one as well. Now, there’s been this complaint from Lady Blenkinsop.’

‘I-I’m right sorry,’ stuttered Bert. ‘You see, sir, what happened –’

‘Never mind. That old witch is always complaining about something. Ah, beer, just the thing. Drink up.’

‘Your health, sir.’ Bert raised the tankard with a shaking hand.

‘I’ve been looking at your record. Very fine. No scandals. Everything dealt with quietly and decently. Then you rescued that family last year in Plomley at the fair when their carriage horse bolted. The reason I called you in was to tell you that we think the time has come to give you a little rise in salary as a token of our appreciation.’

‘Oh, sir, thank you, sir. What about Lady Blenkinsop?’

‘The lord lieutenant is calling on her. You will not be troubled by her.’

Lady Blenkinsop was initially delighted when the lord lieutenant, Sir Percy Twisletone, called on her. She longed to mingle with the aristocracy, but they mostly shunned her.

‘I will get right to the point,’ said Sir Percy. ‘You have put in a complaint against the village policeman because of his relative’s behaviour.’

‘Of course! Cheeky minx. I honoured her with an invitation to sing for me and she refused!’