‘I know,’ Judy said, smiling. ‘This solves all our problems for now at least, but if Ben is right and work starts very soon, we should get really busy.’

‘Nate said he would like to live here, but of course I’d have to speak to Daisy first. It’s only polite, considering she’s been so good to the boys.’ Hilda fingered the coins as if touching precious metal. ‘We need somewhere to keep this safe. I suspect some of the customers we had last evening would rob their grandmothers if they could get away with it.’

‘I’ve thought of that.’ Judy led the way to their private parlour and she kneeled down to prise up a loose floorboard. ‘We’ll keep out what we need and put the rest down here. With a rug over the top no one would think of looking there.’

‘I certainly hope not.’ Hilda watched while Judy stowed the leather pouch in its hiding place. ‘I’m starving,’ she said faintly. ‘I haven’t eaten since that slice of stale bread for breakfast.’

‘Neither have I,’ Judy admitted reluctantly. ‘I was working so hard getting the place ready to open that I forgot about food.’

‘There are two meat pies in the basket,’ Hilda said eagerly. ‘Let’s eat.’

But a noise coming from the taproom and a male voice shouting Hilda’s name made them both freeze.

‘It’s him,’ Hilda said faintly. ‘He’s come to get me.’

Chapter Eleven

Judy grabbed Hilda’s walking stick. ‘Stay here.’ She ran from the parlour and made her way to the taproom where Wilfred was pacing the floor.

He came to a halt. ‘Where is she?’

‘My mother doesn’t want to see you.’ Judy faced him bravely, although inwardly she was quaking.

Wilfred was a big man, and he was obviously furious. His hands shook and his eyes were bloodshot, veins stood out in his neck and his chest rose and fell as if he had been running and was short of breath.

‘She’s my wife and she’s going to come home with me.’

Judy could see that he was beyond reason and she raised the stick, pointing it at him. She was afraid, but she was not going to let him see that she was trembling. ‘No, she isn’t. Ma wants to stay here, and that’s good enough for me.’

Wilfred uttered a bark of laughter, but there was no humour in the sound. ‘Who’s going to stop me? A slip of a girl with a stick? Get out of my way.’ He advanced on her, fists clenched, but at that moment the pub door flew open and Nate rushed into the taproom brandishing a shotgun.

‘Get away from her,’ he cried, his voice breaking, but there was a steely look in his eyes and a determined set to his jaw. It was as if overnight the youth had become a man. ‘I know you’ve come to get Ma, and I ain’t going to let you near her.’

Wilfred spun round, but he backed away when he saw the gun. ‘Where did you get that? You don’t know how to handle a firearm.’