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this dance?’
    I glanced at Peter, only to see him picking up his bow again. ‘No rest for the wicked,’ he said with a smile.
    But Nick had misunderstood my hesitation. ‘It’s all right – I checked with Syd. ’E said I could.’
    I slipped off the orchestra podium. ‘You did what?’
    â€˜Asked ’im if ’e minded.’
    â€˜Why would he mind?’
    Nick just shrugged and led me out on to the dance floor. I didn’t really need him to answer: I could guess. Without me saying or doing anything, the boys had all just assumed Syd and I were now courting. I couldn’t blame Nick for erring on the side of caution – Syd had a punch that could land him in the next county – but still it was annoyingto find myself wrapped up and labelled as Syd’s girl. I noticed from then on that all my partners were carefully selected members of the Butcher’s Boys. Syd was doing a grand job of managing my evening for me, except for my temper –
that
was simmering quite out of his control.
    The dancing broke up for supper at eleven. Syd found me a table and got one of his boys to bring me a plate.
    â€˜Enjoyin’ yourself?’ he asked, digging into his cold meats with renewed appetite after all that dancing.
    I thought it churlish to complain in front of his boys. We needed a private conversation to sort a few things out – not a public row. ‘Yes. It is wonderful to see everyone again.’
    â€˜We can come again next week, if you like.’ Syd turned away before I could answer to shake hands with an acquaintance who had stopped by our table to pay his respects. When he sat down again, I leant closer.
    â€˜I might not be here next week, Syd.’
    Syd undid the top button of his waistcoat andstretched out in his chair. ‘Got another invitation so soon? Somethink to do with Mr Sheridan, I s’pose.’
    â€˜No . . . well, yes. In a way. I’m going to Scotland.’
    Syd guffawed. ‘That’s a good ’un. Just arrived and now off to Scotland. Elopin’ to Gretna Green?’
    I rolled my eyes. ‘Don’t be daft. And I’m being serious. I’m going to Lanark.’
    He snapped into his alert, fight-ready demeanour. ‘You’re not.’
    I tilted my chin. ‘I am.’
    â€˜I won’t let you – not so soon after you got back.’
    â€˜You can’t stop me – you’ve no right to stop me.’
    â€˜â€™Aven’t I?’
    Oh, Lord, we
were
having the conversation despite my best intentions. Fortunately the others at our table were too busy watching a crowd of newcomers to pay much attention to us.
    â€˜You don’t understand, Syd.’
    â€˜No I don’t, Cat.’ He reached out and took my hand. ‘I thought you’d come ’ome to me.’
    â€˜I know you did. And I did, in a way – just not
that
way.’
    His grip tightened. ‘So what’s takin’ you to Scotland? Is there someone else?’
    â€˜Blimey, Syd, you’ve a suspicious mind!’
    â€˜Tell me.’
    My hand was now protesting so I slipped it free.
    â€˜Look, Mr Sheridan got a letter.’ I quickly sketched out the events of the day, sparing no detail about the dubious motives of my so-called relatives.
    Syd moved his hand to cover mine again, but this time to comfort. ‘Sorry, Kitten, I didn’t realize. That must’ve been quite a shock.’
    Trust Syd to understand how hurt I had been.
    â€˜Yes, it wasn’t very pleasant. I’d had all these dreams, you see: perfect mothers and wonderful fathers, but the reality looks rather . . . rather sordid. Odds are they’re just after money. The joke is, they think I’ve got some.’
    â€˜Better if they’d left you alone.’
    â€˜Perhaps.’
    He gave my hand a businesslike tap. ‘Thenleave it. She ain’t ’ad a reply for a year. She’ll ’ave