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going to see that manageress at Gibson and Price, she’s thoroughly upset Catherine. I’ll tell her I’m going to report her to their head office!’
    ‘Sounds bad,’ said Jeremy, standing waiting for the kettle to boil. He thought of asking Cathy if she had a kiss for her old dad, but her red and swollen eyes warned him against it. Instead, he asked her what was the matter.
    ‘Come on, chick, it can’t be that bad. Was it because she found you having a quick snog with Kevin behind the sale-rail?’
    ‘Don’t be so damned insensitive!’ Fiona broke in, while Catherine sobbed that Kevin had had nothing to do with what had happened.
    ‘It was that so-called friend who let him down, and now the shits have taken him in for questioning!’
    ‘The shits being the boys in blue, I take it?’ asked Jeremy, pouring boiling water into the teapot.
    Fiona turned on him. ‘You think you’re so clever, don’t you, making fun of our daughter’s trouble,’ she said, and he realised that she too was on the verge of tears. He sighed.
    ‘Here’s your tea, girls. Sorry it’s nothing stronger, but Roy must have been at the medicinal brandy. Any chance of some light refreshment at this late hour? Shall I do egg on toast for us?’
    ‘Oh, do yourself a damned egg on toast,’ snappedFiona. ‘Here’s me trying to comfort a distraught girl while you’ve been lording it over that all-important choir.’
    He made a conscious effort to stay calm. ‘What about Denise? Is she anywhere around to lend a hand? And our devoted son?’
    ‘You can be so hurtful,’ said his wife. ‘No, Denise has gone out with that nice new boyfriend to see that film on at the Embassy, and Roy’s out with that boy from the garage. Well, you can hardly blame them, there’s not much to keep them at home, is there?’
    ‘And Peter-poppet? Didn’t Denise bath him before she went out? After all, he’s her child.’
    ‘I bathed the poor little chap and put him to bed,’ said Fiona. ‘Thank you for the help you gave me with that!’
    ‘His mother should care for him, not you, Fiona. And what about you, Cathy?’ he asked, not unkindly. ‘Couldn’t you help sometimes with your little nephew – or lend a hand in the kitchen?’
    For answer Catherine put her hands over her ears and screamed at the top of her voice.
    ‘I want to get away! Away from Everham, away from everybody who bullies me!’
    Fiona drew the girl into her arms and stroked a soothing hand over her hair as she gradually calmed down. ‘Sssh, sssh, come to Mummy, dear, don’t take any notice of him, he’s like that with all of us. Sssh, ssh.’
    Jeremy opened his mouth, closed it again and left the room. Quietly he climbed the stairs and went into his grandson’s room. The boy lay sleeping, and tears pricked Jeremy’s eyes as he placed a light hand on the fair head. ‘Peter-poppet, you poor little bastard, you’re the only one in this place I really love. And the only one who loves me.’
    An idea came into his head. He thought of his sister and brother-in-law who lived at Basingstoke. He had a happy relationship with them – the lucky buggers had no children – and he decided to ask them if Catherine could stay with them for a week or two, as she’d lost her job and needed a calmer atmosphere than she had at home. Just until things were more settled, he would beg, a chance to get away from Everham, and possibly to save Fiona from having a nervous breakdown.
    And avoiding one for me, too, he thought to himself. Bloody hell, that would scuttle the Christmas choir before it had really got started.
     
    ‘There are two new admissions to be clerked in on Antenatal, Dr Hammond,’ said Staff Nurse Moffatt. ‘One’s having her third and getting weak contractions, so we’ve given her an enema and hot bath. The other one’s a primigravida who’s overdue, for OBE.’
    ‘What’s that, Order of the British Empire?’ asked Dr McDowall who had followed Shelagh into the ward.