They came to a place where there were benches and sat down. One of them produced a ball and the children began throwing it to each other, but none of them could catch and they soon tired of the game and began to play hide and seek among the shrubs. The two nursemaids were absorbed in conversation and paid little attention. May saw the chance she had been hoping for. In her bag she had the rag doll. She took it out and slipped in among the bushes, waiting for a chance to catch Angel on her own. It was not long before the little girl, seeking a hiding place, strayed close to where she crouched, half hidden by the branches of an evergreen.

‘Angel! Over here!’ May spoke in a voice just above a whisper.

The child stopped and looked around, puzzled.

‘Angel, it’s me, May. Do you remember?’ She held out the rag doll. ‘Look what I’ve got. It’s Raggy. You used to love Raggy.’

Slowly Angel moved closer, a finger in her mouth, eyes wide.

‘Here you are,’ May encouraged her. ‘You can have her.’ Angel stretched out a hand and at that moment a voice, sharp with anxiety, called, ‘Angelina, where are you? Come back here.’

The child snatched the doll from May’s hand, turned and ran back to her nurse. May straightened up slowly, aware suddenly that she had done something very foolish. She could hear the nurse questioning Angel, but not the child’s replies. ‘Who? Where? What lady? Did you find it? Where did you find it? Give it to me,’ and then a scream of protest that went on and on and would not be silenced. ‘Oh, very well! Keep it then. Only stop your noise. Come along, we’re going home.’

May waited until the sound of their voices had died away and then she stepped out of her hiding place and made her way back to the omnibus stop.

She had hardly set foot in Freeman’s Ladies Fashions next morning before she was ordered to go to her employer’s office. This time Mr Freeman was not alone. Mrs McBride was standing between his desk and the door and as soon as May entered she let loose a diatribe.

‘How dare you? How dare you spy on my daughter and frighten her? What gives you the right to meddle in the affairs of my family? And what possessed you to give her that filthy doll? Do you think a child of mine does not have a hundred better, more suitable toys? You wrote me a letter of apology, saying you accepted that Angelina was not the child you mistook her for – but you lied. You are impertinent, disobedient and thoroughly untrustworthy. Well, what do you have to say for yourself?’