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treating them well ?”
    “There was nothing else we could do. I’ve my own two children to protect and, as everyone knows, children from Leith are all crawling with lice and …”
    The farmer’s wife never finished her sentence as Patsy had jumped over the top of the table and, in mid-air, had punched the woman heavily in the face. “My bairns do not have lice and if they have them now they got them from you. And what’s this?” Patsy was now looking down, not at the blood oozing from the woman’s nose, but at the three plates of cold porridge which she suspected was destined to be her grandchildren’s tea.
    “We sometimes put it by the fire to give it a heat for them but it’s too warm for a fire the day,” wheedled the farmer, who was the next victim to get a punch from Patsy.
    The police sergeant now realised he had to restrain Patsy so he grabbed her firmly by the waist, which resulted in all three children charging into the kitchen to rescue their granny, while the farmer, emboldened by the sergeant’s action, demanded that Patsy be charged with assault. This announcement had a calming effect on Patsy, who had no wish to spend a night in the cells. Accordingly, she looked imploringly at the sergeant who she felt was a decent man.
    “Right,” ordered the sergeant, making sure he rolled the “r” “If we proceed with an assault charge then this lady will have the right to say why she … justifiably … lost her temper.” The farmer shifted uneasily. “And the whole story of the deplorable conditions these children have endured will come out.” Patsy nodded. “So,” and the sergeant now turned Patsy round to face him, “I think that, since you want to take them home with you the day, we should all forget what has happened here.”
    The farmer and his wife quickly nodded in agreement.
    “But,” continued the sergeant, “I consider it only right that compensation be paid for the appalling behaviour.”
    “Naw, naw. Just let them go. We don’t want anything from them,” the farmer emphasised as he began ushering Patsy and the children towards the door.
    “I should hope not,” replied the indignant sergeant. “It’s you who has to compensate them !”
    “But how could I do that?” spluttered the farmer. “I’m a poor man.”
    “That’s right,” his wife butted in. “We’ve not got much.”
    “Oh I wasn’t thinking of money. Now, let’s see. How about all the eggs the wee lassie had to collect for you? I think, so I do, that it would be only proper for you to give her a dozen to take home!” The farmer gave a nod of assent and promptly went to fetch the eggs – but not before the sergeant added, “And of course I’ll need half a dozen for myself as some recompense for all the trouble I’ve gone to today to keep you out of hot water!”

    The bus journey home from Lasswade seemed endless. The children were so excited and longed to see their mother again. Tess was the first to ask if there was any word of her father and Patsy said, “No-o-o.”
    “You sure?” Johnny insisted.
    Patsy just nodded silently and was grateful when Senga began to ask about Phyllis. “Och, she’s doing well enough. A wee bit weaker. But still holding on,” she added quickly, diverting any other questions about Tam. She knew she would have to tell the children eventually, but at least she could put it off until they got home. She hoped desperately that the children would not be as upset as Dinah had been. Well before she had reached the Restalrig Circus house she could hear Dinah’s hysterical screams and sobs. She had tried to quieten her for the sake of Phyllis, who lay imprisoned in her bed making no attempt to wipe the large tears that dropped silently from her eyes. Patsy had just managed to console Dinah when Tam’s mother, Mary Glass, arrived. Mary’s calm and resolute conviction that she would never believe her Tam was dead until they had found his body had astounded Patsy. Mary was so