Then Florence reappeared, her face a little pinked, her steps more hesistant. ‘Charlie,’ she said, as he stood up from the chair, landing her attention on him in the way that made his legs weak and his thoughts go drifting. There was recognition in that look she gave him – a truth they both agreed but weren’t prepared to voice – and she was trailing after him, until she stopped and said, ‘I’m sorry, I can’t help but worry. She might well be like an alley cat. And I might well be trying to mother her. But – look – it’s after two and she’s not back. It seems to me that we’re neglecting our responsibility towards the girl. I don’t mean you, Charlie, of course. I’m trying to get through to my husband.’

Mr Mayhood was already nettled by the whole exchange. ‘I’m not phoning the police, Flo. She won’t thank us for it.’

‘No, you mustn’t,’ Charlie put in then. ‘That’s only going to rile her up when she gets back.’

‘But what if something’s happened to her?’ Florence said.

He couldn’t stop the fast, dismissive laugh that left his throat. ‘It’s just the way she acts sometimes, that’s all. Believe me, she’s been doing this since I was little.’

‘Hear that? Charlie understands what’s right,’ said Mr Mayhood. ‘We have to let her be. This isn’t school or borstal. It’s a place of work and Joyce is free to come and go. We promised her as much, so we can hardly blame her now she’s done it. There’ll be consequences, though. She’ll lag behind. She’ll have more duties on the rota next week to catch up. And she’ll have to stick with colourwashing prints for longer than she ought. Don’t get me wrong, I won’t be happy if she makes a habit of this sort of thing. But I’m not going to jeopardize her licence by involving the police. It’s one late night. That’s it. She’ll come back when she’s ready.’

Florence was subdued for a moment. Then she said, ‘Like Mr Hollis did, you mean?’

‘Flo, come on. Enough now. That’s a different situation and you know it. Hollis bit off more than he could chew.’

‘I just think we ought to be prepared to ring the station if she’s still not home by suppertime. Perhaps we might ask Mr Kimball to advise us what –’

‘Not Kimball. He’s already got it in for her.’ Charlie hated to be so abrupt and he could see the disillusionment in Florence as he cut her off. Her remonstrating hands dropped quickly to her sides. But he could only think of what their supervising officer might put in his report if he was told of Joyce’s absence. It was just the sort of vague misconduct he’d been waiting for since they’d arrived. Not truancy, as such, but waywardness. An indication of her sliding back into her old behaviour.

Florence patted down the cushions on the sofa in a sort of protest and a storm of dust rose out of them.