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as war correspondent because he had a fluency with words and didn’t care where he went. And he was damned good at his job.
    He was still fighting, really, and didn’t dare let himself become too fond of anyone – except when he thought he would marry Jane and have a family of his own. He gave a snort of disbelief. What a crazy idea that had been, but he honestly had tried to get back in time for the wedding. Still, he had been on his own all his life and that’s how he would remain. It was for the best. He was not good husband material.
    As soon as he walked in the front door of Wilkins House, he noticed the neglect. He wiped a finger over a small table and left a mark in the dust. Knowing the children would be having their lessons, he charged up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and inspected each bedroom. The sheets didn’t look as if they’d been changed for weeks, and the whole place was filthy. What the hell had happened here?
    He thundered back downstairs and into the housekeeper’s room. There was a scruffy man sitting with his feet on a table and smoking a cigarette. Jon waved his hand to clear the air. ‘Where’s Mrs Green?’
    The man looked up. ‘Been sacked, mate.’
    â€˜What for?’ he demanded.
    â€˜Don’t ask me. Happened before I came.’ One fag was stubbed out and another one lit.
    â€˜And what’s your job here?’ He was having the utmost difficulty holding his temper in check.
    â€˜I’m Gus, the odd-job man.’
    â€˜Well, from what I’ve seen of this place there’s plenty to keep you busy, so why don’t you get off your bloody backside and do some work!’
    That certainly got a reaction. Gus stumbled to his feet. ‘Who do you think you are, coming in here and giving me orders?’
    Jon stepped up to the belligerent man, his temper at breaking point, and at six foot two he towered over the disgusting odd-job man. He’d struggled for years to see these poor kids had a better life than he’d had, and as soon as his back was turned, this happened! ‘It’s my bloody money keeping this place going. Now who’s in charge?’
    Gus moved back when faced with Jon’s fury. ‘New bloke’s been brought in. He’s in the office at the end of the hall.’
    He strode up to the door and threw it open, then stopped in disbelief when he saw who was there. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
    The elderly man frowned at him, and then gave a harsh laugh. ‘Well, well, Devlin.’
    â€˜I asked what you’re doing here?’ he repeated.
    â€˜I’m running the place again, and you can leave or I’ll have you thrown out. You always were a nasty kid, and I don’t expect you’ve changed much.’
    A feeling of icy calm swept through Jon, the way it always did when he was faced with a dangerous situation. His mind cleared, and he knew he had to get this man out of here. ‘You’re a bit old to be taking on this job again, aren’t you?’
    â€˜I’m quite capable of handling twelve brats.’
    â€˜Not for much longer,’ he told him in a quiet voice,
keeping his fury under control by a thread. This was the very man he’d just been thinking about. ‘And you won’t be getting any more money from me, Dawson.’
    â€˜Yes, I will,’ he sneered. ‘This is the only pathetic family you’ve got, and you won’t desert them.’
    â€˜You’re right about that, but I’ll help the boys by having you chucked out of here.’ He turned and strode out of the room, through the corridor and out of the building, his long legs taking him with great speed towards the bus stop. Within half an hour he was banging on a door in Primrose Street, Stepney. This was where the housekeeper’s sister lived, and he was banking on Mrs Green being there.
    â€˜Oh, Mr Devlin,’ she cried when she saw him,