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things were all right. The knowledge comforted her and assuaged her guilt – if only a little.
    Kathy lay awake half the night, going over and over in her mind the events that had led up to the drastic action she’d taken. She lay in the Robinsons’ spare bed, tense and anxious, expecting at any moment to hear a loud banging on their back door. She couldn’t imagine that her father would let her go easily. For one thing, he would have to pay someone to do the work on the farm she did for nothing. And that was the last thing he would do. At any moment she expected him to arrive at the Robinsons’ to drag her back, by her hair if necessary.
    Then another thought struck her. Perhaps he hadn’t realized she’d gone. She’d crept quietly out of the house while he was asleep in the battered armchair near the range.
    Only Kathy’s mother had seen her go, had held her close for a few brief moments and then given her a gentle push towards the door. ‘Go now. Quickly – before he wakes up,’ Edith had whispered urgently.
    But nothing disturbed the stillness of the frosty night; the only sound was Ted Robinson’s noisy snoring in the next room. If her father did know, it was obvious now that he wasn’t going to chase after her. No doubt he thought she would come back of her own accord like a whipped dog, contrite and begging forgiveness.
    ‘Fat chance,’ Kathy murmured aloud in the darkness. She turned over and, at last, fell asleep.

 

    Four
    ‘Good heavens! Whatever brings you to my door this early on a Monday morning? Is something wrong, Betty? Is it Edward?’
    Kathy hid her smile at hearing the use of Ted Robinson’s full and formal Christian name.
    ‘No, no, Jemima cariad. We’re fine. But we’re early because we wanted to catch you before you went to work.’
    ‘Come in, do. You’re welcome any time of the day, Betty. It’s good to see you.’ As the tall, thin woman ushered them into the tiny terraced house, she was still firing questions. ‘How is Edward? And Amy? Is my goddaughter behaving herself? Hello, Maurice, my dear boy, how nice to see you.’ She proffered her gaunt cheek for Morry’s dutiful kiss.
    Then she turned her sharp grey eyes on Kathy. ‘And who is this?’
    ‘Kathy. Kathy Burton.’
    Strangely, the grey eyes showed no surprise, not even when they glanced down briefly and took in the suitcase. ‘Jim Burton’s girl?’
    When Betty nodded, Jemima’s only reply was a swift nod and a soft, ‘Ah.’
    It seemed the woman understood without another word of explanation, for she led the way from the back door through the scullery and into the living kitchen. Remains of her half-eaten breakfast lay on the table set against the wall, but she made no effort to return to it, saying instead, ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
    ‘We mustn’t keep you, Jemima. You’ll be wanting to get to work.’
    Jemima glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece above the range that took up the centre of one wall. ‘I’ve never been late in all the twenty years I’ve worked there,’ she said. ‘I don’t think they’re going to dismiss me for being a few minutes late this morning. Besides, Mr Kendall is a very understanding young man.’ She paused, sniffed, and seemed lost for a brief moment in her own thoughts. ‘Poor young feller has to be,’ she murmured. Then she shook herself and was brisk and businesslike once more. ‘Sit down, sit down all of you. Maurice, my dear, fetch another chair from the front room. And then you can tell me what this is about – though I think I can guess.’
    When they were all seated, Jemima sat down too, crossing her ankles neatly and folding her hands in her lap. She was dressed ready for work in a smart, navy blue two-piece costume that accentuated her slim figure. Her hair, once a bright auburn but now showing signs of grey here and there, was swept back from her face into a plaited coil at the nape of her neck, the plain style emphasizing the thinness of her