‘If that is acceptable . . .’ Vic looked at his tutor and the professor for confirmation. Both were grinning from ear to ear.

‘Then I look forward to working with you, sir.’

‘For goodness’ sake, call me Robert, will you? Everyone else does.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Vic could hardly wait to reach his room before opening the envelope. When he did so, with heart beating so fast he feared he might faint, he discovered that it held nothing more than a single slip of paper containing an address and rail warrant to a place he’d never heard of: Felixstowe.

3

No sooner had Kath begun to tell the stranger where to catch the number six bus than another man bustled up. He had a sly look, a bit like a weasel, she thought, with hair curled tight to his head like wire wool. ‘Are you Mr Mackensie? Have I got the right person?’

He ignored Kath, even though she was standing right beside him.

‘That’s right. I’m Vic Mackensie, pleased to meet you,’ the stranger said, offering his hand, which Weasel-face failed to reciprocate. What a rude man, she thought.

‘Frank Wilkinson. Sorry to be late. Bloody ferry had to wait for a bunch of sailing dinghies, of all things! Crazy place. I suppose we’ll get used to it, in time. Come with me.’

The stranger turned to Kath with an apologetic smile. ‘Looks as though they’ve sent someone to look after me. Goodbye, miss. And thank you all the same.’ He gave a funny little bow and followed Weasel-face, who was already striding out of the station.

At last Pa appeared, rucksack slung over his shoulder. ‘Hello, kid,’ he said with a weary smile. ‘No teacakes this afternoon, I’m afraid. I’m all done in. Let’s head home.’

‘Good day?’

‘Not so bad.’

They began the familiar walk home. ‘Did you see your friend today, Pa?’

‘Friend?’

‘The one who works at the Orwell?’

‘Ah yes, Joe. Thinks he can fix it.’

‘Fix it? Really and truly?’ Kath’s mind began to fizz, like sherbet when it hits your tongue. ‘Oh Pa, that’s ace! I’ll have to start making a guest list. How many can I invite? Oh, and I’ll have to get Ma to make me a new dress.’

She’d been planning to tell him about the stranger and what Charlie the ferryman had said about comings and goings at the Manor, but all other thoughts were forgotten. The Orwell Hotel was the most prestigious in the town, situated right on the corner of the main roads leading to the sea and the town centre. Although Kath had never been inside, she knew people who had, and they all said it was terribly grand. She couldn’t remember having been so excited about anything in months, not even when Billy Bishop had told her she was pretty.

Grand or not, she knew it was going to be a tall order to persuade Ma. Nothing in their household happened without her say-so – and this time she said no, which threw Kath into a two-day sulk. Even Joan couldn’t snap her out of it. She should have been revising how to solve quadratic equations, but how could she concentrate when her birthday was going to be a washout? And who needed wretched exams anyway?