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‘I’m so relieved to see you. Have you been to the home?’
    â€˜Yes, I have, Mrs Green.’
    â€˜Please come in.’ She showed him into a comfortable front room and settled her ample body in an armchair.
    He sat opposite her. ‘Tell me what happened.’
    â€˜Mr Jenks took ill and left about two weeks after you’d gone away. The council gave the job to Mr Dawson because they couldn’t find anyone else at short notice. As soon as he arrived, he sacked all the staff.’ Mrs Green dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief, then screwed it into a tight ball. ‘We was just starting to make a nice home for the boys with your help, Mr Devlin.’
    It tore at Jon’s heart to see this kindly woman so upset. She was a widow in her forties and childless. She’d taken the boys to her heart, and in the two years she’d been in the job conditions had improved a great deal. Now all that hard work had been swept aside.
    She began to cry. ‘Those poor little mites, they don’t
understand why this has happened. They’re so miserable.’
    â€˜What happened to the money I gave you before I left for the Congo?’
    â€˜I put it in the cash box as usual and that horrible man took it. I told him it was your gift and it was to buy the children extra food and fruit. He laughed, put it in his pocket and told me I wasn’t needed any more.’ She looked at him with red-rimmed eyes. ‘We can’t leave the boys at the mercy of that terrible man. What can we do?’
    â€˜I don’t know yet.’ He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to think. Could he get Dawson for stealing? No, that idea was instantly dismissed. The man would say he’d used the money for the boys, and no one could prove otherwise.
    â€˜I’ve tried complaining to the council, but they won’t listen to me.’ Mrs Green mopped up her tears.
    â€˜I’ll see what I can do.’ He stood up. ‘Are you all right for money, Mrs Green?’
    She nodded. ‘My sister says I can stay here as long as I like, and I’ve got a bit put by.’
    He left and walked along the street, deep in thought. He’d visit the Wandsworth Borough council offices first.
    After two days of complaining and arguing, Jon was in despair. No one would listen to him. They thought he was trying to get revenge on the man he’d had trouble with in his youth. The two solicitors he’d consulted hadn’t held out any hope of success, and quite honestly he didn’t know what else to do. He found a seat by the Thames and stared at the water, willing his mind to stop racing; water always had a soothing effect on him. There
had to be a solution to the problem. Dawson was unfit to be in charge of children: he was brutal, unfeeling and much too handy with a strap. He could almost feel the force of it across his backside as he remembered.
    He must have drifted off to sleep, because it was an hour later when he opened his eyes to find his mind had suddenly cleared and he knew what he must do. He’d have to try to find the woman he’d met at Standish House, Mrs Freeman. She obviously cared for the children and might be able to help.
    Jon stood in front of a lovely house in Roehampton and hesitated. What right did he have to bring his troubles to the woman he’d met briefly three days ago? He nearly turned away, but, if he did, where else could he go? Concern for the boys drove him up to the front door. He knocked and waited, listening to footsteps coming towards him.
    When the door swung open, Jon found himself looking into dark eyes alive with intelligence. The breath caught in his throat as he gazed at her. The impact of her presence was even stronger at the second meeting. She was wearing a plain navy and white frock and had aged with grace.
    She didn’t say anything, but he knew he was under intense scrutiny.
    â€˜Mrs Freeman, my name’s Jon Devlin. We met at