As the orchestra struck up the Intro, the children’s faces lit by the footlights were a picture of anticipation. Matron and her assistants sat scattered among the boys, with Drew and Maggie, Netta and Mary Finlayson, sitting alongside the girls. How they all jeered at wicked Uncle Ebenezer, cheered on the handsome Principal Boy crooner and Princess Sulima, and shouted at Widow Twankey to watch out for the ghosts hiding behind the screen. Then Karenza the Snake Woman came on as the Genie’s mate in a turban, doing a fire-eating turn. Lily Liddell cooried into Netta’s lap as poor Aladdin was trapped in the treasure cave, believing every word of the drama. Netta saw Drew down the row, fast asleep, and wondered how many noggins Father Christmas had knocked back in the Albany. He was so unpredictable.

At the end of the show the children trooped backstage to meet the stars, tongue-tied and shy with Danny Laredo, gobsmacked by all the glamour of scenery, costumes and bustle. Dixie showed them her sequinned snake suits and headdresses, her box of make-up sticks, the dressing rooms and the scenery stacked up behind the stage. The stage was cleared enough for the children to have a bottle of fizzy pop, a bar of chocolate wrapped in amethyst paper and a packet of crisps each while they collected autographs from their favourite stars.

‘Isn’t it grand? And Father Christmas is on his way too,’ yelled Lily over the back of the coach seat later. ‘Matron says we’re last on his rounds so we’ve not to wake early and put the light on or he’ll think he’s been and we’ll get passed o’er! Is he coming to your house, miss?’

Netta nodded. ‘He’s already been and left some parcels under my tree because grown-ups can be trusted not to open them until Christmas Day.’

‘Will you come and see what he’s brought us?’

‘Of course, in the morning. I’m coming for dinner.’

They all sang carols as the coach chugged up the hill but Polly was looking out of the window, not joining in. Netta touched her arm. ‘Are you thinking about Jack?’

‘Mrs Hunter, do you think he’s with Mam in Heaven?’

‘Wherever he is, I’m sure he knows you’re thinking about him with love, and yer mammy too. I lost my own mother when I was about Lily’s age. Each Christmas I hang up a star on the tree, one for her and one for Rae who died in the war. It doesn’t seem right, does it, to be enjoying ourselves without them?’

‘No. Lily can forget, she’s still nobbut a babby, but I can’t. It’s not fair. Why him? He’d not done owt wrong.’