A View Across the Mersey

by Anne Baker

Genres: Family Life; Historical Fiction; Sagas; 20th Century Romance

Synopsis

The youngest of five siblings, Lottie Mortimer has never felt like she belonged. Her mother died shortly after she was born, leaving her father and grandmother to raise the family and, despite their love and support, Lottie can't help wondering if there is something they are not telling her...With the First World War over, the Mortimers' ship-owning business is struggling to survive and Lottie, who works with her father, worries what the future will hold. Meanwhile, her elder sister Eunice is trapped in an unhappy marriage that causes concern for them all. Then Lottie discovers the shocking truth about her birth that turns her world upside down and the dramatic events that unfold affect them all…

Release date: February 23, 2017

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 300

Sample

CHAPTER ONE

Sunday 29 January 1922

Charlotte Mortimer rushed down to the dining room for lunch and managed to get there just before her brother Glyn. Grandma gave him a forbidding look, because he was a minute late taking his place at the table. ‘Have you children washed your hands?’ she asked.

‘Yes, Grandma,’ they chorused.

Jemima Mortimer rang the bell for Ida, their one remaining maid, to bring in the soup tureen. The children’s mother, Olwen, had died many years ago, and Jemima had moved in to the family home to help bring them up. Her spinster daughter Harriet had come with her to act as housekeeper.

Charlotte was cold and hungry after walking home from church with the family, but she could see that Glyn was fizzing with excitement and knew why. A steaming bowl of soup was put in front of her. It smelled delicious, but she dared not start to eat until everyone had been served. At eleven years old, she knew that Grandma’s ways were old-fashioned and formal – she always called her Charlotte, while to everybody else she was Lottie – but she was also kind and tended to spoil her because she was the youngest of the five children.

‘Dad,’ Glyn said, ‘Philip Royden told us when we came out of church that Uncle Lazlo is home on leave.’

Their father Charles straightened up in his chair, his soup spoon halfway to his mouth. As head of the family, he managed the Mortimer Line, the business that provided a living for them all.

‘He’s staying at the Adelphi,’ Glyn added.

Uncle Lazlo was their father’s younger brother. Every birthday and Christmas he sent them cards and gifts, but they rarely saw him because he worked out in West Africa. He seemed a distant, romantic figure. Lottie didn’t understand why, but the family seemed to think of him as a black sheep, and she’d picked up occasional references to a cataclysmic row they’d had many years ago that still kept him estranged.

He had further blackened his name by taking a job with Henry Royden and Partners instead of working in the family business. The Roydens lived four doors away along New Ferry Esplanade. Philip Royden was a few months older than Lottie, and a few months younger than Glyn, and was their close friend. He was often round in their playroom telling them stories about life on the West African coast where Uncle Lazlo worked. Lottie and Glyn loved to hear them. Philip also told them that his father was friendly with Lazlo and considered him an asset to their firm. Henry Royden had been at sea school on HMS Conway with Dad, and was his competitor in trade and his erstwhile friend.

Lottie looked round at her family. Dilys, her eldest sister at twenty-three, was fashionably dainty and full-figured. She had Celtic colouring – dark curly hair with blue eyes and fair skin – and took after her Welsh mother rather than the Mortimers. Aunt Harriet had the same round, attractive face, and was placid and smiling and kind, but at forty she was short and dumpy. Lottie’s favourite brother Glyn, one year older than her, was square, sturdy and strong like Dad. Twenty-one-year-old Eunice, who was already married, was missing from the table, while Oliver, at sixteen, was away at school.

Grandma was tall and thin, with a long face and a large nose. She had the features of a classical Greek statue, with few wrinkles considering she was almost eighty. She had strong opinions on everything and decided most things on behalf of the family. Even Dad had to bow to her will.

Charlotte was already almost as tall as Dilys, and was still growing; she was thin and angular like Grandma. She would have loved to have silky dark brown curls like the rest of her family, but her hair was straight and pale blond. She loved them all, but somehow she’d always felt she wasn’t quite one of them. She didn’t fit the mould.

Charles started carving the sirloin of beef. ‘With trade the way it is, I’m afraid I might have to mothball another ship,’ he worried. ‘Probably the Cheshire; we just can’t get the cargoes.’

The Mortimer Line had once had a fleet of twenty ships. Currently they had three seagoing tramping freighters transporting grain and general cargo round the Mediterranean and the Black Sea, and two smaller coastal vessels transporting slate from the Welsh quarries to the Mersey to cover the roofs of Liverpool.

‘Things might pick up soon,’ Harriet said, trying to comfort him. The adults were always talking about how poor trading conditions had been since the war, and what a terrible effect it was having on the family’s finances.

Glyn cut in to ask, ‘Can we phone Uncle Lazlo and invite him to come over and see us?’

Lottie could see from Dad’s face that that didn’t meet with favour. ‘We like to rest on a Sunday afternoon,’ he said.

‘Then can Lottie and I go over to see him?’ Glyn persisted.

There was a shocked silence. ‘By yourselves?’ Aunt Harriet’s eyebrows had gone up. She had grown used to being at the beck and call of her mother and brother, and was no longer paying much attention to her appearance. She’d given in to middle age.

‘Could Dilys take us?’ Glyn suggested. ‘You’d like to come, wouldn’t you, Dilly?’

‘Absolutely not,’ Grandma thundered. She was the powerhouse of the family, overflowing with vitality. Her eyes were alert and her mind razor sharp, and she considered it her duty to oversee them all. ‘We do not want to see Lazlo, and would prefer that you did not either.’

‘Why not?’ Lottie could see that Glyn was disappointed, but he never knew when to give up.

‘We’ve told you why not,’ Grandma said tartly. A foghorn blared out on the river. ‘Anyway, the fog is thickening; it won’t be safe to go anywhere this afternoon.’

The Mortimer family lived in Mersey View, a large bungalow on the New Ferry Esplanade that Charles had bought when he married Olwen thirty years ago. The tide swept up to the Esplanade twice a day and sometimes splashed over and into the garden. On foggy nights the foghorns could keep them awake.

Once lunch was over, Grandma said, ‘You young ones will need to learn to look after yourselves. It’s been difficult to get anybody to help in the house since the war, and anyway, we can’t afford it any more.’ She allotted Lottie and Glyn the task of clearing the table. Dilys was to put away the remains of the food, while Ida washed up. Meanwhile, Grandma, Dad and Aunt Harriet settled beside the fire in the sitting room with the newspapers.

When they had finished their chores, Lottie followed Glyn to the playroom, which had once been their day nursery, and stood beside him looking out at the river. It was a grey, wintry afternoon; the tide was fully in, and without any wind, the water was flat calm. The Mersey was not much more than a mile wide here, but the city of Liverpool was no longer visible in the thickening fog.

‘I’m bored,’ Glyn said. ‘I’d love to go and see Uncle Lazlo. Philip says he’s been home several times and takes him out and about. He’s jolly and always happy and he gives Philip a good time, but we haven’t seen him for years.’

‘I wish Grandma would tell us why they won’t have anything to do with him,’ Lottie said. She’d been asking about him for years, trying to get to the bottom of what had happened. Grandma had said, ‘It was all a long time ago; he wouldn’t settle down and learn to run the business.’ She wouldn’t be drawn further.

Aunt Harriet had been more forthcoming. ‘Lazlo was wild and rebellious, and made trouble on board a freighter when he was taken on as a midshipman. Charles had to take him into the office, but he was trouble rather than a help there, and after a disagreement, he walked out on us, leaving both his home and his job.’

‘But Oliver has left home too,’ Lottie said.

‘That’s different, as you well know,’ Harriet replied.

Like his father and uncle, Oliver had gone to sea school on the HMS Conway when he was thirteen to be trained as a ship’s officer. The boys of the family then furthered their careers by working on Merchant Navy ships. That was thought to be the best grounding for managing the family business; it was learning from the bottom up. Glyn would follow the same path.

‘You’ll be old enough in September to start on the Conway,’ Harriet had told him.

‘But Oliver is nearly old enough to go to sea now, so he won’t be there,’ Lottie pointed out.

‘That is the family tradition,’ Harriet said. ‘Then after a few years’ experience he’ll be taken into the business.’

‘Yes, but Dad said there won’t be much work for him, so it might be better if he makes his career at sea.’

‘Oliver says he’d rather do that,’ Glyn said. ‘Uncle Lazlo managed to find more exciting work, so why not? Dad never stops complaining about how hard it is for our business to earn money.’

All the family were proud to say they were shipowners, even though the business was much reduced in size and importance. Grandma was alone in believing that one day a family member would take over the Mortimer Line and lift it back to profitability and its former glory.

Glyn said, ‘Let’s see if we can phone Uncle Lazlo.’

Lottie felt a shiver of foreboding. She’d always been close to Glyn, but he was very daring and often got her into trouble.

‘Grandma will be cross,’ she said.

‘I don’t care,’ he retorted. He fancied a job like Uncle Lazlo’s out in Nigeria and was keen to meet him and hear more about it. ‘Come on, let’s try,’ he said.

They could hear Dilys and Ida talking and clattering dishes in the kitchen. They crept quietly to Dad’s study and closed the door. Glyn lifted the phone and asked the operator to put him through to the Adelphi Hotel, while Lottie listened nervously. It seemed an age before he began to speak. ‘Hello, Uncle Lazlo. It’s Glyn.’

For an agonising moment she thought Lazlo hadn’t recognised the name.

‘Yes, I’m Charles’s son. Yes, twelve now. Lottie and I are bored. Can we come and see you this afternoon?’

Lottie stared out on to the rose hedge in the back garden, her stomach fluttering with nerves. She thought Uncle Lazlo was asking if Grandma had given permission for them to come, and Glyn was sidestepping the question.

‘Yes, all the family are fine.’

He put the phone down and grinned at her. Glyn had all the Mortimer good looks, with a dimple in his chin as well. ‘Uncle Lazlo said he’d love to see us, and can we find the way? I told him we could.’

Lottie felt uneasy as they crept back to the playroom. Grandma was going to be furious. ‘We’ll have to tell somebody or we’ll get into trouble.’

‘That’s impossible. They’ll stop us going.’

‘We’ll get into trouble for using the phone, too; we’re supposed to ask first.’

‘But they’d have said no.’

‘We can’t just go.’ Lottie was aghast.

‘Of course we can. Get your coat and don’t make any noise.’

‘We’ll need money.’

‘Yes, for fares.’ Their money boxes stood one each side of the mantelpiece. Glyn had long since learned how to open them; now he managed to tip six pennies out of his and fifteen out of Lottie’s.

‘We won’t need all that,’ she objected.

‘Better take it; we have to think of getting home again.’

‘Shouldn’t we leave a note?’ Lottie worried. ‘We’re supposed to tell somebody where we’re going before we go out. They’ll miss us at teatime and get anxious.’

‘Don’t fuss.’

She pulled the middle page out of her homework notebook and wrote: We’ve gone to the Adelfie Otel to see Uncle Lazlo, and left it on the playroom table. ‘There’ll be an awful row when we get back.’

‘Come on,’ whispered Glyn. ‘I’ll say I persuaded you. We’ll be in time for the half two ferry if we hurry.’

Once Lottie was running up the garden path to the back gate, it seemed a great adventure. New Ferry pier was two minutes’ walk away, past the parade of shops and the post office. It was only when they were passing the entrance to the Esplanade that she could see how much thicker the fog had become. The tide was right in and lapping gently against the bottom of the slipway.

They often travelled this way, and Dad went to work on the ferry every morning. The men working in the ferry house knew them and called, ‘It’s getting a bit thick out on the river, but the ferry hasn’t stopped running yet.’

They each bought a ticket by putting a penny into a machine. ‘There’s a boat tied up now,’ they were told. ‘You’d better run.’

Everything seemed different now they were hurrying down the pier, and Lottie thought even Glyn was having misgivings. There wasn’t a ripple on the water, and she’d never seen fog as thick as this. All round them other ships were beginning to sound their hooters. The ferrymen knew them too, and waited until they had boarded to rattle up the ramp. They climbed up to the top deck and leaned against the rail as they always did.

Lottie felt a shaft of fear; it was as though they were wrapped in cotton wool. HMS Conway and three other training ships were usually visible moored in the Sloyne, a deep-water channel that ran up this side of the Mersey in front of both Rock Ferry and New Ferry. But today they were nowhere to be seen. She knew they’d pass close to them, but though she strained her eyes, she couldn’t even make out their outlines. She saw nothing until the buildings at the Pier Head and the terminus for trams and buses appeared through the gloom. Now the fog was yellowish in colour, and she could smell the chemicals in the air. Grandma said the stench came from the chimneys of the heavy industries all round them billowing smoke that couldn’t get away because of the blanket of fog.

Glyn gripped her by the hand when they were getting off. He asked the ticket collector, ‘What number tram do we need to get to the Adelphi Hotel?’ They had to wait for one to come, but they did eventually reach their destination. Lottie had never been here before and felt intimidated; it looked a very grand place.

Glyn asked for Uncle Lazlo at the reception desk, and very soon Lottie spotted a stranger striding towards them. As soon as she saw his smiling face, she felt better. He threw his arms round her and tried to lift her off her feet in a giant’s hug.

‘My goodness, what a big girl you are now.’ He looked a little like Dad and Aunt Harriet, but he was bubbling with good humour and the joy of living, while they always looked worried and dragged down by the cares of the world. He held her at arm’s length. ‘Can this really be little Charlotte?’

He kissed her, then shook hands with Glyn, man to man.

‘I’m delighted you’ve both come over to see me. I was a little worried because of the fog, but you’ve got here safely.’

Uncle Lazlo had the body of an athlete, the brightest blue eyes and a deep healthy suntan. He led them into a vast lounge, where they sat facing him on a huge sofa. ‘It’s teatime,’ he said. ‘Would you like ice cream or cake? Oh, why not both? This is something of an occasion. I haven’t seen you for so many years. Tell me what you’ve been doing.’

‘Philip Royden tells us all about you working in foreign places. I’d like to do that too,’ Glyn said. ‘But you know what our family is like.’

‘You’ve been given to understand you’re destined to run the family business?’

‘Yes, though Oliver’s not keen to join it.’

‘I don’t suppose it’s going well. How many ships does your dad run now?’ They all knew he didn’t actually own any outright. The family was reduced to holding shares in the vessels and managing the business on behalf of the other shareholders.

‘Three tramping freighters and two coastal vessels, and Dad’s worried all the time that he’ll have to lay one of those up,’ Glyn told him. ‘He thinks it’ll be the Cheshire next.’

Lazlo’s smile had gone. ‘It’s becoming harder and harder for any of us to make a profit.’

‘But Roydens are still making a profit, aren’t they?’ Charlotte asked, checking up on what Philip had told them. The Roydens had once been shipowners too, but their business had been taken over by Elder Dempster, one of the big Liverpool shipping lines that ran the mail ships out to West Africa.

‘Well, the Elder Dempster Line is, and they’re using seven of Royden’s small ships. They pick up cargo from the mailboat in the large ports and ferry it along the coast and up the rivers to the smaller places.’

‘And what exactly do you do out there?’ Glyn wanted to know.

‘I look after the African end of the business. I see to the provisioning and bunkering of the ships when they arrive, and arrange cargoes of palm oil, tropical fruit and sometimes parrots for them to carry to the great African sea ports of Freetown, Takoradi and Lagos. The Elder Dempster mailboats call in there on a strict timetable to pick up the goods and bring them to Liverpool.’

‘I’d like to live in exciting places like that,’ Glyn said. ‘I don’t want to be like Dad, working in that gloomy office trying to get cargoes and worrying because trade is falling off.’

Lazlo pulled a face. ‘You’ll have an easier time if you knuckle down and do what your father wants. Don’t make enemies of your family; you’ll find it isn’t worth it.’

Lottie wanted to get him off that subject. ‘Tell us about Calabar. Grandma says it’s the white man’s grave.’

‘Perhaps it was in the old days, but not any more. We have electric light and running water, and the mailboats bring out bicycles and sewing machines and cars.’

Ice cream in three flavours arrived in glass dishes, and Lazlo told them, ‘Help yourselves. Eat as many of these fancy cakes as you can. I’m certainly going to.’

‘This is a scrumptious tea,’ Glyn said.

All the time they were eating, Uncle Lazlo was talking about life in Calabar, and the way he traded for palm oil to be made into soap; coconut husk that could be made into coconut matting; crocodile skins and grey parrots.

‘It’s very different from the Mersey. There’s very little to be seen on land; it’s dense, hot rainforest, palm trees mostly. The inland waterways spread everywhere and they’re only as wide as the roads here, but they’re deep, so quite big ships can navigate them. You can see ships coming towards you through the palm trees and it looks as though they’re sailing on land.’

New arrivals came into the lounge, and they heard them talking about an accident somewhere on the river, and saying that the fog was now so thick that all buses, trams and ferries had stopped running.

Uncle Lazlo jerked to his feet. ‘It’s time you two went home. Thank goodness for the underground trains; they won’t stop.’

‘By train?’ Glyn asked. ‘We live a long way from the station.’

‘So you do.’

‘We always travel by ferry; we don’t know about trains,’ Lottie said anxiously. She turned round to look at the windows and was shocked to see how dark it had become. ‘Will we be able to find our way home?’

‘Course we will,’ said Glyn, but she could see he was worried too.

‘Oh dear!’ Lazlo said. ‘This could blacken my name further. I’d better see you safely back. Look, I’ve been invited to dinner by Henry Royden this evening, but I need to go up to my room to change. Come to the bar and I’ll buy you each a glass of lemonade, and you must wait for me down here. I won’t be long, so don’t go away.’

When he’d gone, Lottie sipped her drink and said, ‘I think he’s lovely. I don’t understand why the family don’t like him,’

‘He’s great fun,’ Glyn agreed. ‘They don’t like him because he’s working for the Roydens and helping them make more profit than we are.’



CHAPTER TWO

Jemima Mortimer had been determined not to give in to old age, but she’d found that a rest after lunch kept her going until bedtime, so nowadays she allowed herself half an hour. Today, the frequent blare of foghorns on the river made it hard to drop off, and no sooner had she done so than Harriet was poking the fire into a blaze and throwing on more coal.

Jemima yawned and sat up straighter to see that Charles was still asleep and Dilys was reading. ‘I thought you were going out,’ she said.

Dilys closed her book. ‘I changed my mind and decided to stay by the fire. Look at the fog now; it’s a real pea souper.’ It was already dark outside, and the fog was a greyish-yellow blanket against the windows. ‘I’ll put the kettle on, shall I? You’ll be ready for tea, Grandma.’ On Sundays, Ida had the afternoon off and they had to look after themselves.

She had just reached the door when there was an almighty boom outside, somewhere between a crash and an explosion. It was loud enough to hurt the ears and made her cry out with shock. It was followed by a cracking of timbers that sounded almost like shots from a gun.

Charles was jerked back to wakefulness. ‘What on earth was that?’

Dilys was already peering out of the window. ‘I can’t see anything, but it sounded close.’

There were two windows in the room; they all crowded against the glass. ‘As close as the garden gate,’ Jemima said. ‘Just listen to that!’ Now they could hear a cacophony of foghorns and bells.

‘An accident out on the river,’ Harriet said. ‘Two ships must have collided in the fog.’

‘None of ours are in the Mersey,’ Jemima said thankfully. ‘It sounds as though there’s panic out there.’

‘But not a light to be seen!’

‘I do hope nothing has run into the training ships in the Sloyne, with all those young lads on board,’ Charles said. They were all fully awake now, and anxious. ‘I’m going out to see.’

‘I’m coming with you, Dad,’ Dilys said.

‘Put your coats on,’ Jemima called after them as she returned to her fireside chair.

Harriet sighed. ‘We might as well have our tea; there’s nothing we can do to help. I’ll put the kettle on.’

It was only when she’d brought the tray into the sitting room and was pouring the tea that she said, ‘Where are the children? I gave them a shout.’ Usually they came promptly for the biscuits.

‘Did they go out with Charles and Dilys?’

‘I don’t think so.’ She opened the door and called again, ‘Glyn, Charlotte, it’s teatime,’ then returned to the fireside to pick up her cup and saucer.

‘Quite a disturbance out there,’ Jemima worried. ‘I’ve never heard as much noise as this before. I do hope nobody’s been hurt.’ As she sipped her tea, she felt an anxious niggle about the children. ‘They must have gone out with Charles.’

Without a word, Harriet got to her feet and went to find them. Seconds later, Jemima heard her rushing back at twice her former speed, waving a piece of paper. ‘They went out ages ago – look at this!’

A page torn from a notebook fluttered on to Jemima’s lap. She reached for her spectacles and stared at Lottie’s careful writing. We’ve gone to the Adelfie Otel to see Uncle Lazlo. ‘Oh my goodness!’ She got to her feet. ‘They are naughty, after we expressly forbade them to go to him!’

‘This will be Glyn’s doing,’ Harriet said. ‘Isn’t he exactly like Lazlo?’

They heard the front door slam shut, and moments later Dilys came to warm her hands at the fire. ‘There’s a problem down on the pier,’ she said. ‘An ambulance has just drawn up by the ticket office. Dad has gone to see if he can do anything to help, but there’s a crowd of people come from the hotel.’ The New Ferry Hotel was only a few yards away, overlooking the pier.

Charles was back before very long, his cheeks scarlet with the cold. ‘A ship has collided with the pier.’

‘A ferry?’

‘No, the ferries stopped running an hour ago because of the fog. It was a Dutch steamer, quite a big one. They’re saying the crew were drunk, that the captain had gone to his cabin and the crash threw him out of his bunk. He’s been taken to hospital.’

‘Is the ship all right? Much damage?’

‘I don’t know. They say the pier is unsafe, but they wouldn’t let me near enough to see. Getting to work tomorrow is going to be difficult.’

Harriet said in a matter-of-fact voice, ‘The children have gone across to Liverpool to see Lazlo. A more pressing question, Charles, is how they will get back.’

‘What?’ There was anger in his voice. ‘They know we don’t want them to have anything to do with Lazlo. Why did you let them go out? Surely you could see the fog was thickening?’

Jemima got up and pushed Lottie’s note into his hand. ‘You heard me forbid them. I expect they’ll be sorry by now that they went.’

‘Do they know the way back from the station?’

‘Which station? We’re an equal distance from Rock Ferry and New Ferry, and none of us ever travel by train. Why would we when we’re only a few yards from the pier?’

Harriet shuddered. ‘They won’t be able to see their hands in front of their faces by now. They’ll be terrified.’

‘Serves them right,’ Charles said.

‘I’m worried.’ Jemima shivered. ‘Will they be able to find their way home?’

‘Damn Lazlo,’ spat Charles. ‘Why did he have to come back and cause more trouble?’

Lottie stood on the steps of the Adelphi and looked at the nearest street lamp sending a cone of yellow into the dark fog. There was almost no traffic and the few cars were travelling very slowly. Uncle Lazlo gripped her with one hand and Glyn with the other as they crossed the road to Liverpool Central underground station.

‘This is terrible,’ he said. ‘I’ve telephoned Henry Royden and asked him to bring his car to meet us at New Ferry station.’

Oh goodness, Lottie thought. Dad wouldn’t be pleased about Philip’s father turning out to collect them in this fog. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘to put you to the trouble of getting us home.’

‘Your grandma would be furious with me if I left you to find your own way back in this.’

‘Yes,’ Glyn agreed, though Lottie could see he was enjoying the prospect of the train ride. It was a different experience, and the fact that Lazlo was with them meant they didn’t have to worry about finding their way.

Mr Royden was waiting for them in his car. He got out and threw his arms round Lazlo in a bear hug. ‘Welcome home,’ he said. They clapped each other on the back and seemed in high spirits. Lottie knew he was Lazlo’s boss, but she could see they were friends too.

He opened the back door. ‘In here, you little rascals,’ he said jovially. ‘Did you enjoy your expedition this afternoon?’

Lottie was not enjoying this part, and she knew Glyn wasn’t either; he was sinking lower in his seat. They were about to face Grandma and she was going to be incandescent with rage.

The car stopped at their back gate. ‘Come on, you two, I’ll come in with you to say hello,’ Lazlo said. ‘It might help to break the ice. I’ll only be five or ten minutes, Henry, but don’t wait for me. I can walk along the front to your place.’

Glyn opened the back door and stood back. Lottie’s heart was fluttering as she led them through to the sitting room, where the rest of the family were sitting round the blazing fire. They all turned to look at them, their faces full of condemnation. Lottie’s spirits sank further.

‘Hello, Mother.’ Lazlo strode across the room to embrace her, but Jemima remained stiff and unbending. Harriet did too when he bent to kiss her. ‘How are you, Charles, old thing? I’ve brought the children safely home, in case this awful weather got the better of them. Lovely to be back in dear old Blighty all the same.’

Lottie watched her father pull himself to his feet, but Grandma was not to be distracted. ‘You two go to your rooms,’ she ordered, ‘and stay there. You knew you shouldn’t go out; you deliberately disobeyed me. As punishment, you’ll have no supper tonight.’ Lottie clutched at Glyn as she went on, ‘And stay in your own rooms, please. There’s to be no getting together to play board games.’

‘Sorry, Grandma,’ they muttered together. ‘Sorry, Dad.’

‘Dilys,’ Grandma commanded, ‘would you be good enough to make sure they stay apart; and then perhaps you could set out supper for the rest of us on the dining table?’

Dilys ushered them silently out. ‘Oh my goodness, you’ve done it this time,’ she said. Lottie hung her head in shame and went meekly to her room. Once alone, she opened the door to hear better the angry buzz of voices from the sitting room, but it was impossible to pick out any words.

After a while, it seemed Lazlo was leaving, ‘I can’t stay and argue with you now, Charles, the Roydens are expecting me, but perhaps I could come again tomorrow and . . .’

She thought she heard Dad tell him not to bother.

‘I’d like to take you out, Mother, what about lunch tomorrow?’ The reply was softer, but she thought that was a refusal too, then Lazlo’s footsteps went up the hall and the front door banged shut. It seemed Grandma didn’t want to be friends with Lazlo, and Charlotte was little wiser as to what it was all about.

The punishment was what she’d expected, but Dilys had always looked after them. She crept back five minutes later with a pork pie and an apple for each of them. ‘Keep quiet, say nothing and stay in your room until breakfast time,’ she hissed.

When daylight came the next morning, Lottie opened her bedroom curtains and gasped with astonishment. It was still grey and misty, but the fog ha