The music stopped and shouting took its place. Connie pressed her ear to the door. Leonard was yelling about Eileen not being good enough. Connie’s blood boiled. Eileen might not have been caught out by a baby like Connie had, but she was trapped by Leonard. No wonder she wanted to leave. There was a crashing sound and then silence. Johnny had been fiery, but he had never hurt her, and her father would never have harmed her mother either. But had her mother been happy? Was Connie? There were different ways to be ensnared.

A creak on the stairs. Connie spied little Eva in her purple dress. Barefoot, with sharp elbows and bony knees, she was as wispy as a willow. Connie pushed away her self-pity. It was worse for Eva, with no father and a mother who cried all the time, and hardly any money.

‘Hey,’ she said now, running up the stairs and crouching beside the little girl. ‘What are you doing here all alone?’

Eva looked at her with wide eyes. In the past, Connie’s mother had given Eva treats – a sugar mouse, a slab of toffee, or else she had passed on an item of clothing like the dress she wore now or a toy that had belonged to Connie. Once it had been a jack-in-the-box with a harlequin clown, another time a red and yellow spinning top. Connie’s mother had said that it was a disgrace how people treated the Kolinski family. She said they had suffered too much already and that if she could help in any small way she would. She’d invited them for tea and Connie had taught Eva how to press flowers.

She ran to the flat. Rooting through her wardrobe, she pulled out a rag doll with plaited hair. She felt the softness of its body and the tug of a memory – her mother tucking the doll in beside her at night, kissing both of their foreheads, leaving behind the scent of lavender oil as she softly closed the door.

‘She’s called Sarah,’ she said, back on the stairs, giving the doll to Eva. ‘After my mother.’

Eva smiled and Connie felt rewarded. She took the child’s hand and led her home. In her delight, Eva clung fast, jumping onto each step with both feet together.

The door to the top-floor flat was open and the sound of Mrs Kolinski’s playing spilled through. Connie gave Eva a kiss goodbye, and then, noticing how the child’s eyes were fixed on the rose, she gave that to her too.

‘Watch out for the thorns,’ she said, ‘and don’t tell anyone. Especially that old misery guts, Kenneth. Not a word. It’s our secret.’

Eva nodded. Such a silent, solemn child. Connie doubted she ever said much at all.