‘But that’s awful!’ Molly exclaimed.

Constance nodded in agreement. ‘However, we should be looking to the future, not dwelling on the past. I think that, after we’ve had our dinner, we should sit by the fire and have a talk about what you want to do.’

It was nearly dark by the time they’d eaten their dinner. Molly got up from the table, lit the gas light and put another couple of lumps of coal on the fire.

When she looked round, Constance was scraping the last remnants of rice pudding from the dish. She laughed when she realized Molly had seen her.

‘You’re such a good cook it’s hard not to eat every last scrap,’ she said appreciatively. ‘The lamb was so tasty, the roast potatoes perfect. My dear friends around here, although kindness itself, tend to be a bit limited in their culinary skills. Did your mother teach you to cook?’

‘Yes – well, the basics,’ Molly said. ‘But we had a good domestic-science teacher at school who was always urging us to borrow cookery books from the library, and to experiment, too.’

‘Working in Pat’s Café doesn’t give you much scope for creativity or experimentation.’ Constance chuckled.

‘I don’t mind.’ Molly smiled. ‘I can improve things a bit by not giving people food swimming in grease. That’s about the only improvement, though. I have suggested serving some home-made soup or stew. Pat said she’d think about it, but I doubt she’ll agree.’

Constance laughed. She knew, as did everyone in the area, that Pat was lazy and against any kind of change. The only reason anyone ever ate in her café was because it was convenient and because, now and then, she employed someone like Molly, who could cook.

‘Maybe it isn’t worth the effort of trying to persuade her,’ she said. ‘After all, it’s only a stop-gap job. Have you given any thought to a new job, or a career?’

‘I did think I might be suited to hotel work,’ Molly said, with some hesitation. ‘A small hotel, where I could do lots of different jobs – reception, cooking, running a bar and cleaning the rooms. By the sea somewhere in Kent or Sussex would be nice, especially if I could live in.’

‘A great deal nicer than the East End,’ Constance said with a smile. ‘I’d miss you, of course, but I’d be happy to see you embark on something you really liked, and which has a future. I’ve been so pleased that you aren’t talking about Cassandra and Petal so much lately. Something like that takes a great deal of getting over but, at your age, it isn’t healthy to brood on it.’

Molly hesitated before replying. She might not have spoken to Constance about Cassie and Petal so much, but they’d been on her mind all the time.

‘I don’t talk about them because I’ve said everything I have to say,’ she replied after a moment’s thought. ‘But I haven’t forgotten them, or given up the idea of trying to find Petal. Every single day I show their pictures to people and ask them if they knew Cassie. In fact, that’s exactly why I thought of a hotel in Kent or East Sussex. Many of Cassie’s poems mention places there, so I think that’s maybe where she came from. I’ve found out nothing here, but if I can discover where she used to live, I might be able to find some family members, too.’

Constance instantly looked worried, and Molly sensed she was going to say something she didn’t want to hear.

‘I think the idea of a hotel is a good one. But I’m not so sure about digging around for Cassie’s relatives. We both sensed she had run away from something, or someone. Is it wise to go digging?’

‘A child’s life is at stake,’ Molly said indignantly, surprised Constance didn’t see it that way. ‘For all we know, Cassie’s relatives might not even know about her death, or that her daughter is missing, maybe murdered, or at least abducted. I suppose I just want to find someone who cares the way I do.’

‘It’s good that you care. I didn’t mean that you shouldn’t think about her and want to make it right,’ Constance reproved her. ‘But I have to say that when you first visited me here I felt you were making her the focus of your life because you had so little else in yours. That was perfectly understandable, as you had no boyfriend, you had a difficult father – you even said your sister wasn’t interested in you any longer. And Cassie had filled your life, just as she did mine when she lived here, so I know what a hole she left behind.’

Molly nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak in case she burst into tears.

‘I had hoped that you’d find real happiness and good friends at Bourne & Hollingsworth,’ Constance went on. ‘I’m so sorry that went so badly wrong.’ She paused, smiled and reached out to take Molly’s hand.

‘I know this place isn’t what you’re used to, and Heaven forbid that you get the idea that you’ve got to stay and take care of this old lady. But I will say that everyone who has met you here likes you. I think you have a tremendous amount to offer the world, because you are kind, thoughtful and very caring, along with being brave and intelligent, too. I don’t believe you know what a good person you are – that’s why I’m telling you this now. I think working in a hotel is a really good idea: you do have all the right credentials for it, and I think you’d be perfect for it. But I want you to choose a hotel that you like, in a place you’d like to live in. But not just so you can try and find Petal.’

Molly gulped back the lump in her throat. No one had ever said such nice things about her before, and she knew Constance meant it.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’ll take note of everything you said, but I have to try and find Cassie’s family, if only so they can make the police open the case again and look for Petal. Something inside me tells me she’d want that.’

Constance sighed, then nodded. ‘Yes, you’re probably right, but just make it secondary to getting your own life settled. And, by the way, have you written to your mother or that policeman friend of yours back home? You should tell them where you are now, because if they write to you at the hostel, they’ll probably get the letter returned to them marked “Gone away”, and that is going to worry them.’

Molly blushed. She hadn’t thought of mail being returned. ‘I don’t know what to say to them. I don’t think they’ll believe I stole anything, but all the same –’ she broke off, not liking to admit her real fear was that they would all be horrified to think of her living in Whitechapel. George might even come up here to try to rescue her. That would make everything much worse.

Constance gave her a knowing look, making Molly blush again, because Molly was fairly certain the older woman understood her fears. ‘You don’t have to go into any detail. Just reassure them you’re safe and happy. Your poor mother is probably frantic.’

A little later Constance glanced across the room to where Molly was sitting at the table, writing a letter to her mother. She could see by the way the girl’s brow was furrowed that she was finding it difficult. Constance knew without a shadow of doubt that Molly hadn’t stolen anything, and the injustice riled her. Her mother would surely know that, too, as anyone would who knew her well.

Although Constance had never had children, she understood that a child’s hurt was felt just as keenly by the mother. Mrs Heywood must have spent her entire life in pain for the way her husband treated his daughters. Some would ask why she didn’t leave him; that was easy to say but almost impossible for a woman with two children and no money of her own to do. Mrs Heywood probably thought, too, that it was better for her children to live with their father, and maybe she even believed he would change. How many thousands of women married to bullies believed that!

As for Molly’s policeman friend, she sensed that Molly liked him a great deal, and he had to feel the same way, as he’d helped her get to London and wrote to her every week. Constance felt it was only a feeling of unworthiness on Molly’s part that had prevented her from encouraging him.