Edie Williams lay in her hospital bed and fretted. Although neither Tess nor Albert had voiced aloud the problem which must have been nagging away at them, as it nagged away at Edie herself, it was a problem which would have to be faced.

Edie knew, none better, that a baker needs both hands. Even for cake decorating she would need both hands. And whilst it was possible that she might learn to manage to do certain tasks which involved her right hand and not her left, she realised that Deering’s could not possibly wait on her convenience. They now employed two people to do the work which she had undertaken alone, and Mr Deering, a delightfully easy-going employer, had already visited her twice on the ward. ‘I’ve warned the fellers I’ve took on that their jobs will finish the day you come back,’ he had told her, his tone earnest. ‘But I’ve spoke to Sister and she tells me you’ll not be baking, nor rolling pastry, nor decorating wonderful birthday cakes for many a month. You’ll get paid in full for some time yet because you’ve been with us a tidy while, but then you’ll go on to something called sickness benefit and I thought we might ask you to do the books for us. I know you used to be an accounts clerk for Roberts and Smythe. I guess that’d mean a couple of hours a week, but if I ask around others will likely be glad to give you similar work.’ He had looked at her, his eyes full of sympathy. ‘Mrs Williams, if I could do more for you I would, honest to God I would. But the fact is, what with coupons, forms and running out of ingredients half the time, Deering’s is in a parlous state. I don’t deny there are weeks when we take a pretty sum, but there are other times when I have hard work to pay the staff. But if you have any ideas of how we might help . . .’

Edie had been sitting up in bed in her pretty pink bedjacket, her hair tied back with lavender ribbons and her person smelling very sweetly of lavender water. She read not only sympathy but also admiration in her old boss’s eyes, but had to shake her head at the suggestion of work. ‘Thank you, Mr Deering, it’s very good of you,’ she had said gratefully. ‘But once I’m on sickness benefit I’m not allowed to earn, you know, not so much as a shilling. Yet I don’t believe the money they pay me will cover the rent of a flat, let alone our living expenses. But I’m hoping that there are jobs which someone with only one useful hand can do, and if I’m right you may be sure I shall be first in the queue at the employment exchange.’

Mr Deering had looked enormously relieved. ‘You’re a courageous woman, Mrs Williams,’ he said. ‘I might have known you’d take it as a challenge and not give up. But don’t forget, if I can do anything to help . . .’