Rose stood in the throng of excited children and indulgent parents and grandparents, holding Betsy’s hand. Her daughter’s first pantomime. How Davey would have loved to be here. She always brought him naturally into conversations with Betsy so he wasn’t a stranger, but of course the child had no memories of her father herself. When Betsy had started school she had asked why she didn’t have grandparents and aunties and uncles like the other bairns, why it was just the two of them. She’d explained that her own parents were dead and that Davey’s lived a long way away along with their other relations. For the time being Betsy had been content with that. It helped that Amy and Frank had taken on the role of auntie and uncle, and Amy’s parents were fond of Betsy too and treated her much the same as they did Daisy’s bairns. They’d been invited to the inn for Christmas Day dinner and tea along with Amy and Frank and Daisy’s family.

An usherette with a jaunty pillbox hat and smart uniform which clung to her curves was taking people’s tickets and directing them into the theatre, and as they joined the queue, a voice said, ‘Mrs O’Leary. What a surprise. You’re going to the pantomime too?’

Her heart stopping, she turned to see Alexander Bembridge with a boy and a girl about Betsy’s age behind her. Bairns. He’d got bairns, was her first thought, and in spite of herself she felt a keen sense of disappointment and vaguely being let down. It made her voice stiff when she said, ‘Hello, Mr Bembridge,’ inclining her head with a polite smile.

‘These are my godchildren, Rosaleen and Nicholas, who I get to spoil at regular intervals when I’m home on leave. Their father is my oldest friend.’

Godchildren. They weren’t his. She smiled at the pair of them, saying, ‘This is Betsy, my daughter. I think she must be about your age.’

It was the little boy who said, ‘I’m six and Rosaleen’s five,’ as he stepped forward, holding out his hand. ‘How do you do?’

His sister followed suit, and as Rose shook their hands she wondered what their godfather thought of Betsy, who was hiding behind her skirts. ‘What beautiful manners,’ she said to Alexander. ‘I’m afraid Betsy is shy with strangers.’ The two children were dressed beautifully too, the girl in particular who was wearing a red velvet coat and hat with a white fur trim and carrying a white fur muff.

Alexander crouched down and smiled at Betsy. ‘Have you been to the pantomime before?’

Betsy shook her head.

‘Then you are in for a treat. It’s Mother Goose this year and can you keep a secret?’

Betsy nodded solemnly.

‘Those eggs of hers are real gold. Think of that.’