‘It’s Fay, Fay Little.’ She laughed. ‘When I was small, my brother Harry used to call me little Fay.’

‘My God!’ Bridget was shocked. ‘Harry’s sister! He told me all about you. I should have known, what with the orphanage an’ all.’

Fay was surprised. ‘You know my brother then?’

Momentarily lost for words, Bridget could only nod.

‘Are you friends?’

‘We used to work together, at the big house.’ God! If this innocent young thing knew the truth about me and her brother, Bridget thought, what would she think of us?

‘Harry is a very special brother,’ Fay said. ‘When Father died, he took on the burden of the family. My sister Alice is worse than useless and causes Harry no end of trouble. I offered to leave the orphanage and help out so Harry might have a life of his own, but he wouldn’t hear of it.’ A tear glistened. ‘He’s so kind and thoughtful, and he has such a lonely life. It’s so unfair. He would make somebody a wonderful husband.’

Bridget remained silent, not trusting herself to speak. In her mind’s eye she saw Harry’s handsome face and agreed it was a waste of a splendid man. But because of what they had done, another good man had died. Such a thing was not easily forgotten.

‘You won’t tell him what happened today, will you?’ Fay pleaded. ‘Please don’t. Harry is so protective of me. He has a real temper when he’s roused, and I’m afraid he might take this whole thing on himself.’

‘I won’t tell,’ Bridget promised. Harry obviously had enough trouble on his plate as it was. ‘Now you do as I say. Ignore this Mr Noosan. Carry on as if nothing happened, and I’ll be down there as soon as I can.’

They parted, and Bridget went back towards the market and on to the manager’s office.

The manager was called Mr Crouch, and true to his name he walked in a peculiar bent-over manner. Even when he sat down he seemed to be crouching. Nobody knew whether Crouch was his real name or a nickname bestowed on him by cruel tormentors, but either way he answered to it without animosity.

‘It’s always a pleasure to see you, Bridget.’ He greeted her with a smile as bent as his back. ‘Come in, my dear. Sit down.’

Bridget did as she was bid. ‘I’ve heard you’ve got the handling of the new indoor stalls,’ she began. ‘Is that right?’

‘Yes, but they won’t be stalls. They’ll be proper shops, with their own entrances and storerooms. There’ll be a big window for display purposes, and a large serving area.’ He tucked his thumbs in his waistcoat and beamed at her from across his desk. ‘There are others who could have done the job but it’s me they’ve asked to take on the responsibility for it. I’m to write down the names of all interested parties and recommend certain of them to the authorities. You see how they trust me?’