He laughed again and Tess laughed too. ‘I wouldn’t mind at that, only I’d have hard work to find your fee,’ she admitted. ‘To tell you the truth, my gran’s job hunting for full time work now that Christmas is over and not having much luck, so if you hear of anyone needing a helping hand, tell ’em Mrs Edith Williams would be happy to oblige.’

By now they had reached the milliner’s shop and Tess produced the key which hung round her neck. ‘Thanks very much for your company, Snowy. What’s your real name, by the way?’

‘Oh, I’m really Desmond – ghastly name – but of course everyone named White gets called Snowy.’ And then, as Tess turned the key in the lock and swung the door wide, he added: ‘Want me to come up with you and explain how you got your black eye?’

Tess shook her head firmly. ‘Thanks, but no thanks. Me and Gran are going to have bloater paste on toast for our tea and I’m afraid it won’t stretch to three,’ she said. ‘Cheerio, Snowy. I expect I’ll see you around.’ And with that she gave him a little wave, closed the door firmly and ran up the stairs.

Desmond, alias Snowy White, stood staring at the closed door for a moment, aware of a feeling of pique, for he had confidently expected to be invited up to Mrs Williams’s flat, and to find himself with the door virtually banged in his face was a salutary lesson. After a few moments, however, he turned away, telling himself that she had not meant to snub him. Had she been a couple of years older he was sure she would have jumped at the chance to invite him to meet her grandmother, but she was only a kid, after all. Still, she had said herself that she would see him around, and having made up his mind she meant no harm he strolled down Heyworth Street, then turned and retraced his steps, pretending to examine shop windows as he went, though heaven knew there was little enough to examine. Blast had seen off most of the glass and several of them were boarded up, save for a small square perhaps two foot by four, just enough to let some light in, for glass was strictly rationed and even private houses came under the same rules.

Reaching the milliner’s shop once more, Snowy stood staring at the window, or what had once been the window, contemplating his own future. He had no desire to become a part of the building industry, nor did he intend to work in a factory, or even in an office. An only child, he dreamed of going to university and becoming a member of the medical profession, either a doctor or a dentist for choice. All through the war his parents had put away any money they could spare in a savings account which they referred to as the ‘education account’, and Snowy knew that he owed it to them, as well as to himself, to do sufficiently well at school to gain a university place. He also knew that this would be hard, because many of those who had joined the forces would now be eligible to take the places at university that they had turned down in order to fight for their country, which might mean he would need first-rate exam results to get in. But Snowy was ambitious and hard-working and was quite prepared to fight for his future.