‘Miss Ogden went to see them that Sunday evening, just after my mother must have written and posted this letter to us. Miss Ogden thought you might have gone there. The school knew their name and address because you’d been allowed to visit their home. They had the police looking for you all over Lincoln throughout the night.’

‘The – the police?’ Kate felt herself growing red with shame. ‘Oh, Dad, I’m sorry. I – I didn’t think they’d bother to look for me.’

‘Why didn’t you write to us, Katie, and tell us what was going on?’

She hung her head, but now there was no long hair to hide behind. ‘I didn’t think me mam would believe me.’

‘We’d have come to see you,’ he said softly. ‘We both know you would never tell lies. We’d have seen for ourselves,’ his glance flickered towards her shorn hair, ‘how you were being treated. As for whatever else happened, well, if you ever want to tell us . . .’

Kate shook her head. ‘I dun’t want to talk about it. Mebbe some time, but not now.’

‘I understand,’ he said gently.

‘I am sorry, Dad.’ She looked up at him again, tears brimming her eyes.

He smiled at her and ruffled her short hair. ‘We’ll say no more about it. You’re safely home now and that’s all that matters.’

At that moment the baby began to whimper and the whimpers became louder until she was squealing. Jonathan cast a comical look at Kate and went to the cradle to pick Lilian up. Putting her against his shoulder, he patted her back. The baby gave a loud burp and the squealing subsided, but only to a continuous grizzle.

Jonathan nuzzled Lilian’s downy head, ‘Who’s Daddy’s pretty little girl, then?’ he murmured, but Kate’s sharp hearing caught his words and she felt the familiar shaft of jealousy. Jonathan glanced at her and Kate dropped her gaze, afraid that he might read in her eyes the feelings she tried hard, yet failed, to quell.

Jonathan’s deep voice came softly. ‘I hope she grows up to be like you, Kate. You were a lovely little girl when I first met you. Not that you’re not now, of course!’

Kate felt a warm glow spread through her and she raised her face again, the fleeting resentment banished by his affectionate words. ‘How old was I?’

‘Let me see, you’d be about four. A bright little thing you were, always laughing and chattering. Much the same as you are now – at least, as you were before you went to that wretched school,’ he admitted regretfully.

Kate frowned, puzzled. ‘But me dad, me—’ She stopped, changing the words carefully, conscious of the hurt she might inflict upon her beloved stepfather. ‘Me other dad – was here then, wasn’t he?’