At one of the Formica tables, Alice finished the sandwich and a second drink, taking it slowly and reading a newspaper, her legs jiggling nervously as she waited for him to clear the empty plate.

“Can I get you anything else, miss?”

“I’m fine, thank you, Joe—”

Alice froze. She’d just risked everything with another stupid slip of the tongue.

He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. “Do I know you, miss?”

“No, but—” She tried to replicate a smile she’d seen before, one Ursula used all the time to feign familiarity and put people at ease. “I’ve got some information that might be useful to you. Perhaps we could talk somewhere more private.”

He glanced at the bar. “There’s someone starting the next shift in about fifteen minutes. You could stay here or wait for me across the road.”

She followed his gaze through the window to a playground opposite the pub. It was the only open space and appeared to be part of the housing development, but it would do.

No sooner had Alice settled on a bench than a group of children, accompanied by a teenage girl, arrived to play on the mangled equipment. Three girls rushed over to the roundabout; one of them, with auburn braids, lay across the bars, while another leaned backward, letting her head tip upside down, blond hair flying up as the roundabout whirled clockwise. The third girl pushed off with her left foot as the teenager waved at them frantically to slow down. Alice flinched at the memory of Ruth’s face, rueful and pained, when she’d told Alice how much she and Freddie had wanted a child. As Alice watched the little girls at play, she realized that she understood the desperation that had driven Ruth to adopt William under dubious circumstances.

Alice released a breath and slumped back against the bench, the cold hard wood digging into her spine as she scanned the road for Joe. There weren’t any trees to shelter under; the main features of the park were piles of shattered bricks that even the salvage crews had left. Dust and sulfur clogged her nose. Her first impression had been that the area was unsuitable and unsafe for a playground, yet daisies were poking their heads out of the dirt and bright yellow buttercups grew among the scrappy grass. It might be a wasteland, but it was also an oasis for the kids, and she felt sure there would be stories here for Women and Children First if she could only look.