‘Really, Uncle Alex? Are they?’ Rosaleen spoke up, her eyes wide.

‘Most certainly,’ said Alexander as he straightened. Rose caught the conspiratorial look that passed between his godson and himself, like that of two adults indulging a child, and thought how close they must be and how grown up the little boy appeared.

The foyer had been emptying as they talked and now Rose said, ‘I think it’s about to begin,’ wanting nothing more than to end the conversation.

‘We’ve got a box, would you care to join us?’

He must have noticed that the tickets she was holding were for the stalls. Her voice stiff again, Rose said, ‘Thank you, but no,’ and to the children, ‘I hope you enjoy the pantomime.’

‘Perhaps a drink in the interval then?’

‘We really must take our seats.’ She knew it was rude to avoid answering him but for the life of her she didn’t know what to say. What if someone she knew saw her associating with him? They’d immediately jump to the wrong conclusion. ‘Goodbye,’ she said politely, guiding Betsy before her to where the usherette was waiting by the door into the auditorium.

As they entered the dimly lit interior her heart was still racing nineteen to the dozen. For him to be here today and not only that but making a point of speaking to her too. As for the invitation to join him and the children in his box, well, it was absurd. Surely he must have known that?

Down in the orchestra pit the musicians were tuning up as the usherette showed them to their seats, and almost immediately the lights faded, much to her relief. She was vitally aware that somewhere above her, looking down, Alexander would be able to see her and she felt as tense as a coiled spring. It was only Betsy grasping her hand in excitement as the orchestra began the opening tune and the tasselled drapes swished apart that brought her out of the maelstrom of her thoughts. This was Betsy’s day, she told herself, suddenly feeling angry with Alexander Bembridge for intruding on it and taking her attention away from her daughter. She wanted to enjoy every moment of it with her.

Betsy gasped in wonder, glancing up at her mother with shining eyes as the pantomime began – a whirl of colour erupted on the stage and the compère introduced the story. The outlandish costumes, vivid make-up and wigs of the performers all added to the spectacle, and gradually Betsy’s rapt delight in the proceedings cast a spell over Rose too so that she almost forgot about Alexander Bembridge. Almost.