Chapter Twelve
Gladys at home – a day’s work – an unexpected guest – a partnership
The search had been long and fruitless. Gladys returned home at her boarding house, hungry, thirsty, and footsore. Nobody had seen Gruffydd. Not the police, not the hospitals, not even his tiny handful of friends. Nobody.
She took Michael upstairs to her meagre room. It consisted of a bed, a wardrobe, a washstand, a small Franklin stove, and not a great deal else. The paint on the walls was grey and smelled of mildew. She had lived in worse places, but not by much.
“When I was a boy in Glasgow, I used to watch every play I could sneak into,” Michael said. “Just to see you all up on stage, like kings and queens of the world. I thought you must live in palaces. Aye, and this is a palace, compared to Mr Pri
