Tess looked at her enemy and saw that Marilyn was nodding, though she also saw that there was a strange glitter in the older girl’s eyes. Still, it was a generous offer and she accepted it immediately. ‘Gosh, thanks ever so much, Marilyn,’ she said gratefully. ‘Are you sure your mam won’t mind?’

Marilyn shrugged. ‘Your gran’s a good customer; I don’t think she’ll mind at all. But come with me into the shop so that I can explain what happened to the margarine.’ She turned to the boy. ‘Were you goin’ to call for me, Snowy? Or were you just passin’?’

‘Just passin’,’ the boy said; he grinned lopsidedly at Marilyn. ‘School starts in a couple of days and there’s a perishin’ great hole in my satchel, caused, no doubt, by the weight of books. Go on, you two. Mrs Thomas will understand that accidents happen.’

Tess wished she could suggest that Snowy came into the shop as well, but knew this would be a real giveaway, revealing the fact that she feared Marilyn’s attitude might change as soon as they were out of Snowy’s sight. However, Tess reasoned, it was up to her to make the most of the present situation, so as they entered the corner shop she touched Marilyn lightly on the arm and whispered: ‘I’m sorry I hit you, Marilyn. I won’t do so again. Only you did say . . . well, you did say . . .’

Marilyn gave her a wide smile. ‘Shut your mouth,’ she said very slowly and distinctly. ‘And be thankful Snowy White came along. He’s me feller, if you hadn’t already guessed. And I won’t have you tellin’ my mam a pack of lies, so just shurrup and let me do the talkin’.’

They had joined the end of the queue, and when they reached the head of it Mrs Thomas smiled at her daughter. ‘Back already, dear?’ she said. ‘Have you changed your mind about takin’ a break?’

‘No-o, not exactly,’ Marilyn said. ‘Mam, this is Mrs Williams’s granddaughter. When she come out of the shop just now with her margarine, she slipped on the ice and landed on her shoppin’. I know you can’t give her no more margarine, ’cos it’s on ration, but if you could spare a bit of jam in an old jar she’d be ever so grateful.’

Mrs Thomas, who was a tall, somewhat stringy woman, with grey hair pulled into a hard little bun on the nape of her neck, a large and commanding nose and a pair of very shrewd brown eyes, nodded briskly. ‘I’ll fill an old honey jar,’ she said. She smiled at Tess. ‘You wait here, queen, while I fetch it through; me daughter will serve the customers whilst I’m gone.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Thomas,’ Tess murmured. It was a pity that Marilyn did not mean to make peace, but it seemed that Mrs Thomas, at any rate, did not share her daughter’s view of the Williams family. I don’t believe Marilyn had any reason to say what she did about my mother, Tess thought, as she stood to one side of the shop and watched Marilyn dealing with the customers. She had to admire Marilyn’s efficiency, and found herself wishing that she too was a tall, slender blonde who could take on the task of serving a line of customers with such apparent good humour. Of course Tess knew that the good humour was an act, or at least she supposed it was, but in any event by the time Mrs Thomas returned with several spoonfuls of jam in an old honey jar the queue had disappeared.