Alfie wiped the sweat from his forehead as he thought of Kitty Callaghan. She’d always taken his eye, back when they were all kids playing in the street. She was pretty, and her hair curled in a way that had fascinated him when a boy. He would stare at it until someone noticed, but he had been too bashful when younger to do anything more than gaze from afar. Kitty had looked after her brothers ever since she was eleven, and everyone knew she was a wonderful cook. What else could a man ask for? Admittedly his mother had written to tell him she’d come back because of some sort of promotion, and people were saying she’d done well for herself, but after all it was only the Wrens. It wasn’t like a proper man’s job – how hard could it be? She’d still be the shy, gentle Kitty he remembered, he was sure of that.

However, it didn’t hurt to take some precautions and do some background research. That was why he was dragging himself down this godforsaken country lane in the middle of nowhere, trying to find a farm. Some people might think this was a mad thing to do, but he wanted to cover all eventualities. His mother had mentioned that Tommy Callaghan had been evacuated out to Freshfield and was on the same farm as those horrible brats who had lived above the corner shop. Alfie reckoned it was time to renew their acquaintance. Tommy owed him. He’d saved his life a couple of years ago when the boy had been messing around in a warehouse that had caught fire. Alfie had basked in the glory of being a hero, even if his reasons for being down at the warehouses weren’t quite as pure as he made out. He wanted to remind Tommy of how grateful he should be. Also, when Tommy was recovering in hospital, Alfie had gone to the trouble of obtaining some new football boots for the boy at Christmas. It wasn’t a selfless gift; he’d made sure Danny knew it was so they were in his debt. Even if Danny wouldn’t falsify the medical examination, he’d know that he still owed Alfie that favour. And owe him he did, big time.