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    week that there was a man, was sure at the end of the second. Then she saw them at their lunchtime strolling one day. Tomlinson saw them meet when Charles, recklessly eager and casting aside secrecy, waited for her across the street from the office. And one of the labourers at Ashleigh’s glanced out of the window of a public house as they passed and next day the entire warehouse knew —except Vincent Ashleigh. All those who knew kept the knowledge to themselves as if participating in some unspoken conspiracy, but the one who found out and who really mattered was not one of them.
    On a Saturday afternoon Charles handed Katy down from a cab in the middle of Newcastle, both of them laughing. He turned to come face to face with a tall lady in a stylish gown with a flowered bodice and narrow skirt that reached down to touch her neat little shoes. She wore a befeathered hat with a wide, shady brim and Katy knew dress and hat must have cost well over a sovereign — probably four or five times what she was paid for a week’s work. She saw the smile of amusement on Charles’s face turn to one of surprise and he said, ‘Good Lord, Mother. I didn’t expect to see you in town today.’
    Eleanor Ashleigh’s eyes were sharp, her smile thin-lipped and put on like the hat. ‘Your father wanted me to go with him to the country but I changed my mind. I decided to go shopping instead.’ She gestured with a gloved hand to where a liveried boy stood, half hidden by an armload of parcels. But her gaze had never left Katy and now she asked, ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me,
    Charles? ’ He did and Eleanor Ashleigh nodded and smiled, then murmured, ‘Merrick? I don’t recall the name. Is your father in business in Newcastle?’
    Katy answered, ‘He works in Swan Hunter’s yard at Walisend.’
    Eleanor kept her smile in place and pressed her: ‘Are you at finishing school?’
    Katy did not know what she meant, had no experience of a life spent learning the social graces and practising them at balls and other glittering functions. Charles tried to come to her rescue but was no good at manufacturing excuses on the spur of the moment. He could only speak the truth: ‘Katy works in the office — at Ashleigh’s.’
    ‘ I . . . see,’ said Eleanor slowly. The smile was brittle now. ‘Well, I must go. Good day, Miss Merrick.’ And to her son, ‘I expect I will see you at dinner.’
    Charles warned, ‘I may be late this evening.’
    His mother’s glance flicked from him to Katy and back again. ‘Your father and I will wait up for you.’ All this time the cab Charles and Katy had left, with its head-hanging horse, had stood at the kerb, the driver hoping for another fare. His foresight and patience were now rewarded as Eleanor told the boy, ‘Put those in the cab.’ And when the parcels were loaded Charles tipped the lad and handed his mother into the cab. She did not look back or wave as the cab wheeled away.
    Charles said, ‘That’s torn it.’ And then, philosophically, ‘Still, they would have to find out some day.’
    Katy, mouth drooping, whispered, as many a girl had done, ‘Your mother didn’t like me.’
    For once Charles lied, or possibly he hoped against hope: Of course, she does. She’s bound to!’ He believed that. ‘I expect she was taken by surprise, that’s all.’ He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. ‘Cheer up. This isn’t going to make any difference to us.’ And he meant it.
    He took her to a music hall that night, and afterwards to supper, but he failed to lift her spirits. Katy sensed impending doom. He walked with her to the corner of her street and kissed her. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ And she smiled wanly and left him.
    He hailed the first cab he saw and it took him to his home. True to her word, Eleanor Ashleigh waited for him with her husband. They sat in armchairs on either side of the big fireplace in the drawing-room. Vincent