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    Jack let out a long, low whistle and tossed his bags into the boot. ‘I didn’t expect to come home to find my brother with the trappings of the crache.’
    â€˜Hardly.’ Martin gunned the ignition as Jack climbed in beside him.
    â€˜First stop Carlton Terrace,’ Jack said flatly.
    â€˜Then you’ll see Katie.’
    â€˜As she’s having my nephew, I suppose I’d better.’
    â€˜Or niece. Thanks, Jack.’ Martin glanced at his brother as he halted at the junction between High Street and Alexandra Road. ‘It’s good to have you back.’
    â€˜It’s good to be back.’ Jack settled into his seat and absorbed sights that had been familiar to him all his life. They seemed oddly strange after two summers spent in the blazing sun of Cyprus. But he wasn’t missing the warmth, not even on a cold, Swansea, March night.
    â€˜So you think you’ll be getting married soon?’ Judy tried not to sound overly enthusiastic as she took the cup of coffee Emily handed her. Four out of the five salons she and her mother had bought on mortgages, as opposed to leased, had flats above them and she would have preferred to have taken sole possession of one, but the only empty room was in the one Emily rented.
    â€˜Robin and I have been engaged for fourteen months and with things the way they are … you do know about my father?’ Emily sat in the easy chair opposite Judy’s.
    â€˜Yes, I’m sorry,’ Judy murmured mechanically. The whole of Swansea had heard about Ernest Murton Davies. A year ago he had been counted among the town’s wealthiest and most respected citizens, a bank manager who lived in a large house with vast gardens overlooking Caswell Bay, a picturesque and expensive Gower beauty spot. His wife, daughters and son had lived in a style few could aspire to and everyone envied. Helen’s brother, Joe, had been briefly admitted to the ‘Murton Davies set’ when he had studied at university alongside Emily’s brother Laurence. He had talked about their lavish hospitality, servants, swimming pool and trips abroad, but all that had come to an abrupt end when Ernest had been arrested for fraud and embezzlement. It had taken the case six months to reach court. Ernest pleaded guilty and was sentenced to eight years imprisonment, but by then his family had lost everything. The house, furniture and even Mrs Murton Davies’s jewellery had been sold to meet the demands of Ernest’s creditors. Mrs Murton Davies had retreated to Bournemouth to throw herself and her younger daughters on her sister’s charity leaving Emily and Laurence to fend for themselves.
    Both Emily and Laurence had been forced to abandon their studies, Laurence in university and Emily at the art college. Now the closest Emily came to anything resembling art was a walk past the Glynn Vivian Gallery on her way to her sales assistant’s position in Lewis Lewis’s department store, two doors down from the tailor’s where Laurence worked.
    â€˜It’s been awful for all of us,’ Emily confided, ‘but worse for Larry and me because we stayed in Swansea. But I couldn’t bear to move away from Robin. I don’t know what I would have done without him. He and his family have been marvellous.’
    â€˜I’m sure they have.’ Judy couldn’t help wondering why Robin Watkin Morgan’s family hadn’t invited Emily to live with them. It wasn’t as though they were cramped for space. Joe had been a frequent visitor to their house and said that besides their twelve bedrooms there was a whole attic floor, which had once been servants’ quarters, they never used.
    â€˜Of course, I’ll give you as much notice as I can.’ Emily set her coffee mug on the shelf next to her. ‘You’ll need to get someone else in.’
    â€˜I’m not sure I will.’
    â€˜I thought you’d