‘Have you told Gran about the cat?’ Tess began rather breathlessly, for she had run all the way from the bus stop. ‘Before I went to bed last night I filled the big baking tray with earth because I didn’t want any accidents, and believe it or not the little darling had used the earth during the night, and scraped it up into a sort of mountain so I could see she had performed.’

‘Cat?’ Gran said. She sounded bewildered. ‘What cat? Tess, you’re talking in riddles; let me have the story in plain English, if you please.’

Nothing loath, Tess began with great verve to recount the happenings of the previous evening from the very beginning – in fact from when Albert had believed that the yowling sounds were coming from her wireless set – right through to the moment when he had suggested that she should open a pet shop. Gran was about to say that she could scarcely do so with only four kittens to sell when Tess interrupted. ‘You think he was joking, don’t you, Gran? Well, he might have been, but the idea was a good one; still is a good one. The landlord isn’t asking much rent and the premises are ideal; what’s more, it means we could stay in the flat and wouldn’t have to keep on searching for somewhere else to live. And Gran, if there’s one thing I do know about, it’s animals. I’ve not jumped the gun and gone to the authorities, or to Mr Egbert for that matter, because I wanted to make sure you approved. You could do the books, Gran, order up supplies on the telephone, including our stock, which would be small animals – lots of rabbits, guinea pigs, hamsters . . . that sort of thing – goldfish, those little tiny water tortoises – I can’t think what they’re called . . .’

‘You mean terrapins,’ Albert put in. ‘But it might not be a good idea to start off with them because I imagine they’re quite expensive. Begin with the more conventional pet shop animals . . .’

‘Oh yes, of course, and I forgot chickens,’ Tess said. ‘They’re really important because before the war everyone kept a few hens in their back yard, and most folk would like to do so again. But there are snags . . .’

She went on to explain to her grandmother how folk would buy day-old chicks and then, lacking the necessary knowledge, would feed them inappropriately, or expect them to live outside in a freezing winter. ‘A simple light bulb, if you’re on the electric, and a woollen tea cosy would be enough to save their little lives,’ she said, ‘and the right food is terribly important when animals and birds are tiny. But that’s all in the future, once we’ve got our shop. Oh, Gran, you haven’t said much. What do you really think? I can go to the authorities first thing on Monday morning and ask what sort of permission we shall need for Change of Use . . . What’s the matter, Gran?’ For Edie was slowly shaking her head.