‘Well, I think Ruthie’s idea is a good one, and tomorrow we’ll make some notices and put them up everywhere.’ Bridget wondered at his lukewarm response. In fact, he seemed almost hostile to the idea, and yet he had promised to try and track Fanny down himself so that she and Billy could come to their wedding. Nothing had come of his promise; maybe he didn’t like being shown up by a child. The thought made her uneasy and she pushed it aside. ‘Will you take some of the notices with you when you’re out and about? You can pin them on to trees and gates, and maybe ask about to see if anybody knows where she might be.’

‘What makes you think she wants to be found?’

‘You could be right. Maybe she doesn’t, but it’s not like her to stay away so long without somehow getting in touch. I’m worried, Bob. I’m wondering if she’s in some kind of trouble.’

‘Why would she be in trouble?’

Bridget laughed. ‘Because trouble seems to root her out, that’s why. Please, Bob, will you help find her?’

Putting on a smile, he got out of his chair and went to her. ‘You know I’d do anything for you,’ he said, kissing her on the mouth. ‘Make as many notices as you like and I’ll put them everywhere I go. Will that suit you?’

Reaching up, she kissed him back. ‘I knew you wouldn’t let me down. You never have before.’

‘There you go then.’

‘And I’m glad you understand about me and what I want to do.’

‘It’s your life,’ he said jovially. ‘Who am I to say what you should and shouldn’t do?’ Until we’re wed, he thought, then you’ll see another side of me. ‘I’d better be off now – seeing as there’s nothing doing.’

‘Shame on you,’ she said. ‘You’ll have me thinking that’s the only reason you come to see me.’

‘You know better than that, my lovely. Walk me to the door then.’

At the door, he kissed her long and passionately and Bridget responded warmly; she found a kind of comfort in his arms.

From the top of the stairs, Ruthie watched them, and when she could stand it no longer, she ran back to her room. ‘I hate him!’ she cried, banging her fists on the windowsill. ‘Hate him! Hate him! I wish Billy was here. I’d tell him how I saw Bob kissing that woman in the street. And he wasn’t her friend, because he kissed her like he kissed Mammy just now. If Billy were here, I’d tell him what a bad man Bob Morris is. I’d tell him I’m frightened because he said if I told Mammy about it, he would hurt her. Oh, Billy, I wish you were here.’

But Billy wasn’t here, and she didn’t even know where he was.

‘Happen I’ll run away,’ she muttered. ‘Happen I’ll go and find him.’ The longer she thought about it, the more convinced she was that it was the right thing to do.