He crept cautiously across the yard and reached the back door. It too was locked. Still, there was nobody to see what he was doing. His usual caution left well behind, he gave the door an almighty shove and the old lock gave way. He pushed it wide open and paused, alert for any noises inside the house, but there were none. He tried to remember what Danny had said over the years about who slept where. He was pretty sure Tommy had the smallest room, facing the back. So that narrowed down where Kitty would be. He knew the layout of the place and navigated his way around the kitchen furniture and into the hall. Silent as a thief, he slowly headed upstairs.

He could just about make out that the door to the back bedroom was closed. He turned in the narrow corridor and traced his way along the wall till he came to the door that he was sure belonged to Kitty’s room. He opened it carefully, and could immediately pick up the sound of somebody’s deep, regular breathing inside. So he was right; she had gone to bed and was asleep.

He waited until his eyes were fully accustomed to the dim light. All he could really see were vague outlines, but that was enough to work out where the bed was. He could hardly believe it – he was finally in Kitty’s bedroom and that shape under the blankets was her. Any moment now she would be his. Swiftly he moved across the room and shook her shoulder. ‘Kitty, wake up, come with me,’ he muttered, not quite able to keep his voice as soft and persuasive as he’d planned. He shook her more strongly. ‘Wake up, I said. You’re coming with me.’ Now he was growing frustrated at her lack of obedience. ‘Come on, stop fooling around, get your things, I’m here to take you away.’

The shape groaned and shifted under his grip. Alfie lost his patience and threw back the bedcovers, grabbing wildly underneath them. The shape screamed and half sat up.

‘Shut up, Kitty. Come with me and look sharp about it. I can’t wait all bloody night.’

He grabbed again, connecting with what might have been a nightdress, gripping the flesh beneath it, pulling her further out of the bed. She screamed again, resisting him, twisting away, and he lashed out, furious now that she wasn’t agreeing with him fast enough. Didn’t she realise this was her way to a better life; that he could give her all the things she wanted, if only she’d do as he told her? He hit out again and felt something bony. Maybe her nose. His hand came away wet – he’d drawn blood. He put out his hand to check and felt her hair, long and straight.