Just when he thought he couldn’t stand the heat much longer and would have to find a pub in which to slake his thirst, Alfie passed a milestone on which he could just about make out the carved letters for Freshfield. Of course, getting around anywhere now was a blasted nuisance, what with all the proper road signs having been taken away in case the Germans invaded. At least now he knew he was in the right place. There was the farm, just as his mother had described it. It had been a leap of faith coming here like this, as Vera had only got the description third-hand, from her late friend Winnie, whose son Charlie had come here now and again. It was unmistakable, though: the chicken coop around the back, the stable with the doors painted blue. Alfie paused to take in the scene and to plan his next move. He didn’t want simply to barge in and demand to see Tommy. That would alert the farmer and cause suspicion.

The place was so quiet after Glasgow and Liverpool that it took some getting used to. Somewhere above a bird was calling, and a cow mooed long and low. Insects buzzed in the heat and a fly landed on his face but he swatted it away in irritation. He could almost feel sorry for those city kids, stuck out here with nothing to do. There was a goat running around in the enclosure near the farmhouse – it looked vicious. Give him a run-in with Harry Calendar’s rivals any day.

His ears pricked up at the sound of a horse’s hooves clip-clopping, and before long the animal appeared around the corner of the lane, pulling a cart. An old man sat on the driver’s seat, reins in his hand. He nodded to Alfie as he approached.

Alfie decided to abandon any idea of a cover story and to make a direct enquiry. It was too hot to think straight, and he didn’t want to get caught up in a web of lies if he didn’t have to. ‘Good morning,’ he began, smiling and hoping he looked trustworthy.

The cart driver’s expression didn’t alter. ‘Morning,’ he said in a strong Lancashire accent.

Alfie kept the smile in place. ‘I’m looking for a young friend of mine and I was told he’d been evacuated out here. Tommy Callaghan. Do you know him?’

The man shifted in his seat. ‘Who wants to know?’

‘Oh, my mother was a great friend of his auntie’s,’ said Alfie, stretching the truth, as Dolly wasn’t actually Tommy’s aunt and she couldn’t stand Vera at the best of times. ‘My mam’s dead now and I wanted to get back in touch with them all, you know, for old times’ sake. I was passing this way and thought I could make a start with young Tommy, if he’s here.’