Hopes of seeing the boy faded when the street suddenly filled with glazed, satisfied customers, squeezing past each other out of the theatre and running to seek shelter from the pouring rain, which had started just as Maeve and Danny arrived. They had waited under the front canopy until swept aside when the doors were thrown open. Huddling in the lee of a shallow overhang, Maeve had shivered as water dripped down inside her collar, and Danny’s hair became sodden black curls.
When the last of the audience had trailed from the building, Danny and Maeve pushed against the double doors as they began to close. The manager jumped back so quickly the tails of his coat flapped; startled until he recognised them.
‘Oh, it’s you two.’
‘Oh, sorry, Mr Semple, to be sure we’re don’t mean to catch ye
