The man stared at him dubiously. Then he seemed to make up his mind. ‘Aye, fair enough,’ he said. ‘But you’ve just missed him. He used to help out on the farm, so you got that bit right, but he’s left now he’s old enough to have finished school.’

Damn, thought Alfie, of course Tommy would be older now – was he really fourteen? He supposed it was possible. ‘That’s a shame,’ he said, trying to sound suitably disappointed and not as annoyed as he actually felt. ‘I don’t suppose you know where he’s gone?’

The man shifted again, looking down directly into Alfie’s face. The strain of trying to look open and pleasant was killing him, but he didn’t let down his guard, grinning away for all he was worth, playing the part of fond friend of the family.

‘Bootle,’ the man said shortly. ‘That’s where they’re all from, isn’t it? He’s gone back there.’ With that he gee’d up the horse and moved off, the cart swaying along the lane past the farm and beyond it around another corner.

Alfie was left standing there, hotter than ever, and now cursing his luck. His eye twitched a little in frustration. He’d come all the way out here and Tommy sodding Callaghan had been just around the corner after all. Typical bloody Callaghans, sitting pretty while everyone else did all the work. But no, that wasn’t fair. Kitty wasn’t like that. He gritted his teeth. He mustn’t give up; only fools were afraid to take what was theirs by right. He’d just have to go back home, find Tommy for a moment on his own in Empire Street and ingratiate himself that way. Yes, he told himself, it would be worth it in the long run. He had to keep his eyes on the prize: Kitty.

Dolly tried to summon up the enthusiasm to go to her make-do-and-mend group, but she just couldn’t. To begin with the group had met in her parlour, but it had outgrown the modest room and now gathered at the church hall. Dolly was the leader, encouraging young wives to try different ways of sprucing up old clothes, using upholstery fabric for dressmaking, unpicking or patching or generally producing purses out of pigs’ ears. They needed her with her years of experience, the result of raising five children and keeping them warmly clothed. She knew it, but she felt as if she didn’t have it in her to leave the house, let alone make it as far as the hall.