She imagined returning to find the police still there and, worse, Mr Stellion himself questioning her in his study, asking very, very difficult questions … learning from her all about what his son really did in London and when he came to stay at the Hall. She could imagine George Stellion getting stricter and angrier the more he learned, and Edith would be sitting to the side of his desk patting her aching head and having the vapours. And then the police would descend on Gina with handcuffs and escort her out to their big black car. There would be Dora, standing at the door, watching her go past, weeping on Tom’s shoulder, and Nell beside her, looking stricken but brave, and as the officers drove away to the police station, to lock her in the cells, Coco would be watching her shameful departure through the windows, and whining …

‘Are you all right, love?’ It was a grey-haired woman asking.

‘Oh! Oh, yes … I’m all right, thank you.’ Gina sniffed and realised she’d been crying.

‘Not bad news, I hope?’ asked the woman. ‘I don’t want to pry but you look that sad it set me wondering if mebbe you could do with a cup of tea or summat.’

‘Oh, yes, please,’ said Gina.

She’d had nothing since fleeing the Hall and was now very thirsty. The lady seemed kind and, apart from taking the stolen items to Bella, Gina had nowhere to go and nothing to do. She had no job now – that was a certainty – and, really, she needed to think about her situation and make her own decisions, not just go along with whatever James had said. Look where that had landed her so far!

‘What time is your train?’ asked the woman.

‘I was thinking of going to Blackpool so there are plenty of trains,’ said Gina. ‘It doesn’t matter; I’ve nowt to be there for, really.’ She sniffed again and delved in her pocket for a handkerchief.

‘Ah, love, don’t you fret yourself,’ said the woman. ‘Come on, let’s have a sit-down and a cuppa and you can tell me all about it. A trouble shared and all that.’

Gina followed her to a little station café where she sat at a round table while the woman bought a pot of tea. All the time Gina was working on her story.

‘So, love,’ said the woman, as she poured Gina a cup of tea, ‘have you come far?’

‘From out Skipton way,’ said Gina. ‘I’ve just come from my mum’s funeral and now I’m alone in the world.’

The woman looked at Gina’s black dress and coat and nodded. ‘What, asked to leave, were you?’

‘Aye, by our landlord. We lived in a little cottage but now Mum’s gone I can’t afford to rent it by myself.’