‘Ah yes, here we are,’ the woman answered as she quickly read down a list on the clipboard she was clutching. ‘You’re down to take two children. We thought you could take Bobby and Peggy Walker.’ She led them across the room, weaving through a throng of people until they came to two children sitting silently and clutching each other’s hands. It was so loud that the woman could barely make herself heard, but she smiled kindly at the children when they reached them.

‘This is Mr Willerby who you’ll be staying with, children,’ she informed them and Sunday almost gasped with dismay. They were so small, more like a four- and a five-year-old, and they were painfully thin. Most of the children were carrying small cardboard suitcases but these two had a torn paper carrier bag with string handles that was clearly all they had brought between them. The little girl looked absolutely terrified, while the boy was glaring at John guardedly.

‘I ain’t going wiv him!’ Bobby said instantly. ‘He’s an old geezer!’

‘Bobby, how dare you be so rude!’ the woman gasped but John merely laughed.

‘You’re quite right, Bobby,’ he agreed. ‘I am an old geezer, but I have a nice warm house and I promise I’ll take very good care of you and your sister.’

Sunday held her breath as she watched for the child’s reaction. Bobby was clearly the older of the two but although he might be small for his age, she noted he certainly wasn’t afraid to say what he thought. She could see head lice running across the parting in his hair and her hands itched to scrub him clean.

‘S’pose we’ll ’ave to come wiv yer then,’ he said resignedly, for all the world as if he were doing John a great favour. ‘But just fer a little while!’ And now the corners of Sunday’s mouth twitched too.

‘So, is she yer wife then?’ Bobby stabbed a grubby finger towards her.

John shook his head. ‘No, Bobby. Mrs Branning is just a very good friend of mine. She lives close to me so you’ll no doubt be seeing a lot of her during your stay. But come along, I believe my cook has a nice hot meal waiting for you.’

John duly signed the necessary forms and once he had gently ushered the children from the hall and they approached his car, still clutching each other’s hands, Bobby’s mouth gaped open, making him look like a goldfish.

‘Cor, is this yours?’ he croaked incredulously. ‘I ain’t never ’ad a ride in a motor car before!’ And when John nodded, he smiled for the first time since their introduction. ‘Blimey, are yer rich or sommat?’