‘That’s right.’

They eyed each other for a second and then suddenly Arthur burst out, ‘I heard ’em say in the kitchen that you were pretty, an’ they were right.’ He then blushed to the roots of his hair and bowed his head, wishing with all his heart that he had kept his mouth shut. From that second on, young Arthur’s heart belonged to Kitty.

‘Why, thank you,’ Kitty replied, bending to smell one of the roses. ‘Are you the gardener here?’ It seemed like an awfully large garden for one small boy to maintain but he nodded proudly.

‘I am that, miss. I do all the weedin’ an’ prunin’, an’ I tends to the veggies.’

‘You do a very good job.’ She glanced around approvingly as his small chest swelled with pleasure.

‘That shrub there is a rhodo … rhododen … Well, it’s real pretty when it’s in flower, an’ this one ’ere is a … Oh ’eck, I forget the name but it’s one of me favourites.’

She nodded as she studied him. He was stick-thin and his hair looked as if it hadn’t been washed for months; neither did the rest of him, if it came to that.

‘How old are you, Arthur?’ she asked pleasantly and was shocked when he answered.

‘I’m fourteen, miss. I live in Pimlico wiv me ma an’ me dad an’ bruvvers an’ sisters.’

‘I see. Is that far from here?’ Kitty didn’t really know anywhere in London as yet.

‘It’s a couple of miles or so,’ he replied – and she was shocked.

‘And you walk all that way to work here? But it must take you ages.’

‘Nah!’ He pointed proudly towards a rusty old bicycle that was propped against the wall as if it was a Rolls-Royce. ‘Hardly takes me any time at all on me bike an’ I like workin’ ’ere. The missus is good to me, an’ every day the cook gives me some leftover grub to take ’ome fer the kids.’

‘How many of you are there?’ Kitty was curious now.

He swiped a dribble of snot from his nose with the sleeve of his shirt and began to count on his fingers, his mouth working silently. ‘There’s ten of us nippers,’ he said eventually.

‘Crikey, that must keep your parents busy. You must live in a very big house,’ Kitty chuckled.

The youngster shook his head. ‘We live in a two-up two-down, an’ we don’t see so much of me dad. He spends half his life in the pub if he’s got money in his pocket so it’s up to me an’ me older bruvver to make sure our mum ’as food to put on the table.’

Kitty’s heart went out to him as she realised how lucky she had been. She had never been hungry in the whole of her life, thanks to Sunday and Tom.

It was then that the cook appeared in the doorway and called to him, ‘There’s some breakfast in the kitchen for you, lad.’ Then spotting Kitty who was standing the other side of him she blushed. ‘Beg yer pardon, miss. It’s only a few leftovers.’