‘The shop right next door to Deering’s will come on the market within the next six months, I believe,’ she told him. ‘But there will be others, as places run by elderly folk become too much for them to cope with, what with rationing and rules and so on. Become a burden, in fact. So I’ll keep my eyes open and you must do the same.’

Albert agreed to do so, immensely heartened by the fact that this new and delightful friend had actually suggested a partnership, for though she enjoyed her work at Deering’s she was ambitious and saw a part share in an ice cream parlour as a definite step up. She quite agreed with Albert that Tess should continue her education, but knew that she could do so by taking evening classes, which would leave her free to earn money in the prospective ice cream parlour. So now he let himself into the shop, sniffing the familiar scent of tobacco and Ronuk floor polish, and wishing that he had had the courage to suggest that Edie Williams might accompany him up to his flat for a cup of cocoa before they parted. But had she refused, on no matter what grounds, he would have felt deeply humiliated. Best, therefore, not to push things, not to try to run before he could walk.

Satisfied that he had done the right thing, Albert locked the door and shot the bolts across, then crossed the stockroom and ascended the stairs, feeling the weariness of a long day, but also a sense of achievement, because he had made a friend.

He pushed open the kitchen door and lit the gas under the kettle; a cup of tea would be welcome and he wondered whether he should put a soothing lotion on his arms, which were turning pink and stinging. He went through to his bedroom and, in what he still thought of as ‘Louisa’s half’, found a bottle of something called moisturiser, which he knew his wife had spread on burnt skin in days gone by. He unstoppered the lotion, and by the time he had spread it on his forearms the kettle was boiling.

He got into bed that night knowing that he would fall asleep almost at once, for the day, though infinitely pleasurable, had been a long one. During the drive home, the driver had started a sing-song. Albert, naturally shy, would not have joined in, but Edie would not allow him to remain silent. ‘You must know the words, so sing up,’ she urged him. ‘Tell you what, if you give it a go I’ll pay for your glass of beer when we stop at that café place.’

Albert did not feel he sang well, but he joined in with such verve and vigour that Edie Williams told him he had a grand voice and insisted on buying him half a pint of Worthington’s, though she herself stuck to coffee.

‘You ought to join a choir; it would get you out a bit and you’d enjoy it,’ she had told him. ‘There’s lots of choirs around in Liverpool, the city being so near Wales. Well, they used to call it the capital of Wales at one time, because Cardiff’s such a long way off. What d’you say?’