Having changed into a clean gown of blue-sprigged muslin, I jumped down the stairs, skirts kicking up with every bound, fired by my new resolve. The outline of my plan was already taking shape. All it would need was a little money and a lot of guts. Well, guts I had aplenty. That just left, Reader, my usual state of empty pockets. I was going to need a loan. ‘There you are, Cat. Would you take the plates?’ Mrs Fletcher gestured to the rack over the sink. I balanced four plates on my arm, pretty white china ones from her best set. ‘You’d better make that six!’ she called as I set them on the kitchen table. ‘Oh? Are we expecting guests?’ ‘They’re ’ere already. Nick and Joe are joinin’ us.’ She stirred the pot and tasted it. ‘Call ’em in for me, will you? They’re out back ’avin’ a bit of a wash.’ I ducked out into the yard to find Mr Fletcher, Syd and his two friends all bent over the pump, doing a fair amount of splashing at each other and not much cleaning as far as I could tell.
