Marilyn shrugged. ‘No idea, except that one started it,’ she said, indicating Tess. ‘She’s a rare troublemaker, Snowy. But I weren’t involved. If you want to know more, you’d better ask her.’

The boy stared at Marilyn for a long moment, then scrutinised Tess and raised a brow. ‘Well? That puts the ball in your court, chuck. So what’s your version?’

Tess took a deep breath and looked across at Marilyn, and for the first time saw a look of pleading in her enemy’s eyes. For a moment she was tempted to give the other girl away, to say that though she herself had indeed struck the first blow, it had been Marilyn’s cruel and totally unjustified taunt which had got under her skin. She thought quickly. If she told, she would probably be disbelieved, and life at school would become even more difficult. If she did not tell, then even if Marilyn never became her friend she might stop being her enemy. But how to invent a reason for the fight? She took a deep breath. ‘It was my fault. I’d been into Mrs Thomas’s shop to get some rations and as I came out I collided with Cynthia here. We’re in the same class at school. She – she doesn’t like me much, and next thing I knew we were fighting.’

The boy released his hold on the two girls and turned to Marilyn, standing cool and composed as though she had never so much as thought a bad word, let alone used one. ‘Oh, well. I reckon girls is just like us fellers sometimes!’ He ran a hand through his crisp fair hair and grinned at Marilyn.

Cynthia picked up her shoulder bag from where it lay on the icy pavement and began to peer at it. ‘If me handbag’s ruined you can bleedin’ well pay for a new one, Tess Williams,’ she said viciously, glaring at Tess. ‘It were all your fault. Marilyn were right when she telled us in school to steer clear of you.’

The boy called Snowy looked questioningly at Tess. ‘I’m gettin’ confused,’ he announced. ‘If it were an accident, like what you said, then how come it’s your fault if the bag’s busted?’ His glance went from Tess to Cynthia and then to Marilyn. ‘Come on, Marilyn, you weren’t involved. Whose fault is it if the bag’s busted?’

Marilyn was about to reply when Tess gave a squeak of dismay. ‘Oh my God, my shopping!’ she wailed. The bloater paste was still whole and appeared undamaged, but she pointed a trembling finger at the tiny packet of margarine, or rather what had once been the packet of margarine. In the melee someone had trodden on it and it was smeared right across the pavement. ‘My gran will be that upset . . . oh, whatever shall I do?’

No one spoke for a moment, then Snowy addressed Marilyn. ‘Tell you what, why don’t you get your mam to give Tess here a little pot of homemade jam? You can’t do nothin’ about the margarine ’cos that’s on ration, but I know your mam makes jam sometimes. Wouldn’t that do?’