Violet sat on the edge of the settee and screwed up her face. ‘I don’t know … but there was something odd, back before Christmas. I don’t rightly remember, I was so near my time and I wasn’t quite thinking straight.’ She took a breath, trying desperately to recall the stray comment over breakfast one day. ‘Pop was coming home from his ARP round and he said he’d seen someone hanging around your front door, Tommy. He didn’t do anything official about it because the fellow scarpered as soon as he saw him. He thought it was someone he knew.’ She paused again, then her expression changed as the name came to her. ‘Alfie Delaney. He said it looked like Alfie Delaney.’

Tommy gave a gasp of recognition. ‘Alfie. It has to be him. You know when he conned me into getting drunk that time? I remember now. He kept wanting to talk about our Kitty. It struck me as odd at the time, but I got in so much trouble for going to the pub that I didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t shut up though. Wanted to know if she had a boyfriend, what she did, where she went, who with. His voice went all funny when he spoke about her.’ He shivered in disgust at the memory.

‘Right, I’m going to tell one of those policemen who must still be on our street,’ said Violet, getting up, full of purpose. ‘They can go round his mother’s house and see if he was in last night. That’s a start.’

‘Tell him to check if his car’s there,’ Tommy said suddenly. ‘He loves his car.’

Violet nodded. ‘Right, I’m off. Mam is with the twins upstairs, but you’ll keep an ear out for them, won’t you?’ She ran out before either of them could answer.

Nancy looked at Tommy. ‘We don’t need to stay here for the twins. Mam can cope fine without our help. We should go and see if we can find that Alfie.’

For a moment Tommy looked dubious, and terribly young. Then he nodded. ‘Come on then.’

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Mrs Kerrigan was beside herself when the policeman broke the news to her. ‘That Nancy is a useless mother!’ she screamed. ‘I’ll have her guts for garters, losing the boy like that.’

‘Now, Mrs Kerrigan,’ said the officer, watching the woman’s wild eyes with alarm, ‘there’s no suggestion it was your daughter-in-law’s fault. As I understand it, she wasn’t even there. The boy was staying with her sister and young friend and a burglar broke in. That’s all we know.’

Mrs Kerrigan was having none of it. ‘And where was she, the little trollop? She thinks I don’t know what goes on, but I do. She’s a filthy stop-out, and now look where it’s got her. My poor grandson,’ she added with belated concern.