‘Really?’ her mother said with a sneer. ‘Well, I wish you wouldn’t bring people like that to the house. Types like him are just as likely to be back next week to rob us.’

‘Seebold isn’t like that,’ Milly protested.

‘Seebold,’ her mother said scornfully. ‘What sort of a ridiculous name is that? Honestly, Millicent, the company you keep.’

Pearl smiled. ‘You don’t know the half of it, Mummy.’

Milly bristled with indignation. She was about to make a suitable retort, but as she took in a breath, she paused. No, she wouldn’t rise to the bait. That was what they both wanted – to start an argument, after which she would be the one in tears. Well, she wasn’t going to go down that path again.

‘Excuse me, won’t you, Mother,’ said Milly. ‘Must dash.’ And with that, she walked from the room with her head high. At the top of the stairs, she turned and said, ‘I wish you and Freddie all the best on your wedding day, Pearl. I hope you both have a very happy life.’

Milly hurried down the stairs.

Pearl leaned over the banister. ‘I don’t need your good wishes; for all I care, you can go to hell,’ she shouted after her before she burst into tears.

‘Don’t upset yourself, my dear,’ her mother soothed as Pearl laid her head on Agatha’s shoulder. ‘It won’t be long before she’s back with her tail between her legs.’

Pearl looked up with a startled expression. ‘She’s not going to turn up at my wedding in that awful lorry, is she?’

‘Of course not, darling,’ said Agatha. ‘She’s not invited.’

Seebold was waiting in the lorry. He had been as surprised as Mrs Cunningham when Milly’s mother, her sister and a young man appeared in the kitchen doorway. Mrs Shepherd had looked him up and down, as if he was something disgusting attached to her shoe. ‘Who are you?’ she’d said sneeringly. ‘Mrs Cunningham, you know better than to have your relatives in my kitchen.’

‘We’re not related,’ Seebold said. ‘We’ve only just met.’

‘Then what are you doing in my house?’ Agatha retorted.

Mrs Cunningham had looked uncomfortable. ‘Mr Seebold came with Miss Milly.’

Agatha had frowned. ‘Millicent? Millicent is here?’

‘She’s upstairs collecting her things.’

Pearl left immediately.

‘We won’t be long, missus,’ Seebold said.

Agatha gave him a filthy look. ‘Freddie, will you escort this . . . this person off the premises.’

Seebold had risen to his feet. ‘No need,’ he said curtly. ‘Tell Milly I’ll wait for her in the lorry.’

As he left the kitchen, he heard Milly’s mother saying, ‘I don’t know what you were thinking of, Mrs Cunningham. You invite a complete stranger into my kitchen and give him tea! Freddie, make sure he goes straight to that lorry and nowhere else.’

Seebold had bristled. He would have turned back and given her a mouthful, but he was mindful of Milly and didn’t want to cause her more trouble.

Freddie walked with him to the lorry. ‘Go on, off you go,’ he said, waving his arm in a superior fashion.

‘I’m not going until Milly comes out,’ Seebold told him.

‘What would a scruff like you be doing with the likes of her?’ Freddie asked. ‘Are you planning something?’

‘No, I am not,’ Seebold retorted. ‘I’m perfectly well aware that Milly is a respectable girl and so is her sister.’

Freddie’s expression darkened. ‘How do you know my fiancée?’

‘I don’t,’ Seebold said. ‘I was talking about Lena.’

Freddie seemed puzzled. ‘Who is Lena?’

‘Milly’s sister.’

‘Her sister is called Pearl.’

‘Lena is her younger sister.’

‘She hasn’t got a younger sister,’ Freddie said.

‘Fat lot you know, then,’ said Seebold. He was beginning to feel irritated.

Freddie’s eyes narrowed. ‘If she has another sister, where does she live?’

‘At the moment she’s with a woman down the road, but she used to live with the fairground folk. That’s where I met her . . . when she was living with Rainbow George.’

Freddie’s eyebrows had shot up. ‘Gypsies!’

‘No,’ Seebold said patiently. ‘We’re fairground folk.’

‘Then you’re lucky to live here,’ Freddie retorted. ‘In my country, the Jew, the disabled and the gypsy are all being removed. They’re being taken to camps.’

Seebold squared up to him. ‘I told you before, we are not gypsies!’

‘Whatever you call yourself,’ said Freddie, poking Seebold’s shoulder with a bony finger, ‘come back here and you’ll be in trouble.’

Seebold suddenly jerked towards him in a threatening way. He was sorely tempted to clock him one but, as Freddie took a step backwards, something in the man’s eyes told Seebold that was exactly what he wanted him to do; to goad him into a fight and then he’d call the police. He’d seen his type often enough at the fairground. Well, he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

‘You needn’t worry pal,’ Seebold had said as he opened the lorry door and jumped in. ‘I shan’t be coming back here.’

With a contemptuous sniff, Freddie stuck his chest out and marched away.

As Milly approached the lorry, Seebold jumped down and took her bag. She thought he seemed rather tight-lipped and he thought she looked upset. They drove in silence until they reached the road, then Milly suddenly burst into tears. Seebold pulled into a farm gateway and stopped the lorry. Handing her a handkerchief, he sat awkwardly waiting for her to pull herself together but, after a minute or two, he could bear it no longer. He slipped his arm around her shoulder and she laid her head on his chest until the tears subsided.

‘I’m sorry,’ she choked as she sat up.

‘It’s fine, duchess,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

Milly blew her nose. ‘Was she terribly rude to you?’

‘I’ve heard worse.’