Tess sighed, but in a way she could see Snowy’s point. Marilyn had tried to do a mean thing, and would be served out for it. For a moment though she contemplated going round to the Thomases’ corner shop and warning Marilyn that her escort had other plans, but Snowy must have read something of this intention in her expression because he shook an admonitory finger. ‘No you don’t; just you mind your own perishin’ business, Tess Williams,’ he said, and Tess could hear the laughter in his voice. ‘It’ll do bloody Marilyn good to be taken down a peg. If it hurts your delicate conscience, forget I told you. And if you’re afraid of meeting Marilyn at the Grafton – I should rather enjoy it – we can go to one of the other ballrooms; heaven knows there are plenty to choose from.’

He and Tess parted outside the flat, agreeing what time Snowy would pick her up the following day. ‘And I mean to come round on Sunday as well to whisk you off for a final treat,’ he said. ‘And not a word to Marilyn or her mother, or you will earn my severe displeasure.’

Tess agreed reluctantly to say nothing to the Thomases, but once back in the flat’s kitchen, where Gran was dishing up the shepherd’s pie they had made earlier, she told her Snowy’s plan and asked what she thought she should do about it.

Gran laughed, then considered. ‘Do? Why, nothing, because for all you know Snowy might have repented and already got in touch with Marilyn with some excuse for not taking her out. Of course it was very wrong of him to want to get revenge for something which happened years ago, but all he will be doing is denting Marilyn’s self-esteem, which in my opinion isn’t a bad thing. And now forget about it, which is what Snowy told you to do. Girls like Marilyn are like corks: you can put them in the water and hold them down but they’ll bob to the surface again no matter what.’

Snowy came whistling down Heyworth Street the morning after he had failed to meet Marilyn. It was a beautiful April day, the breeze smelling of both the river and the countryside, and the sunshine fell warmly on his uncovered head. He was nearing the church to which most of the other pedestrians were heading when he spotted Marilyn. He guessed she was also bound for church and wondered for a brief moment whether to dive down a side street before she saw him or to approach her cheerily, as though he had no reason to avoid her. He decided on the second option when he saw she was alone, her mother having presumably gone on ahead with her cronies.

Marilyn was dressed demurely, as befitted a churchgoer, and Snowy thought that her dark green coat with its swirling skirt almost touching her ankles and the little green hat perched on her gleaming gold head were a great deal more attractive than the gaudy clothes she had worn on their previous encounter. He crossed the road and saluted her lazily, a hand raised. ‘Morning, Marilyn. On your way to church?’ he enquired breezily. ‘You’re looking very smart.’