Gran began to speak, then seemed to change her mind, but after a pause she began again. ‘The truth is, you’re different, chuck,’ she said gently. ‘I know you try to imitate the others, but you don’t speak with a Scouse accent, so they think you’re posh. And the village school brought you on a treat so you’re streets ahead of the local kids, which is why you’re in a class with girls who are mostly two years older than you. And you’ve done yourself no favours by telling the teacher she was wrong.’ She chuckled. ‘If there’s one thing a know-all dislikes it’s another know-all; you’ve got to learn tact, young lady, else you’ll get nowhere in this life.’

Tess smiled. It was not the first time that Gran had warned her against being too clever, and she had truly tried, several times having to bite her lip when she saw the teacher making an obvious mistake in the problems she was writing up on the blackboard. So she said humbly: ‘I know you’re right, Gran, and I don’t say anything when she makes a mistake anymore, but honest to God, her spelling! If you could only see it . . .’

While they spoke Gran had been stirring her pan of scouse and now she seemed to realise that it had reached perfection, for she pulled the pan off the flame and began to dish up. ‘Tell you what, queen, that Miss Cracknell is bound to live somewhere near the school; I dare say you could find her address if you asked around a bit. Suppose you take her a Christmas present? A little box of chocolates, or I could make a batch of those crunchy oat biscuits you’re so fond of. Being as how she’s working she may not have time to bake for herself. That isn’t a bad idea.’

Tess felt a smile spread across her face. ‘The biscuits would be best because I’m pretty sure Marilyn gives her chocolates from time to time,’ she said. ‘Only last week I heard one of the girls saying she’d seen Marilyn slipping a little box of sugared almonds, whatever they may be, into Clackem’s desk and getting ever such a sweet smile from that miserable old woman.’

Gran tutted. ‘Don’t be like that. If you’re going to make any headway you’ve got to be sincere,’ she said. ‘I’ll bake the biscuits this very evening and you can take them round to Miss Cracknell’s place tomorrow, all wrapped up in fancy paper. You can tell her you made them yourself, if you like.’

‘No, no, she’d think I was being a cooking know-all,’ Tess said, giggling. ‘I’ll let her think I bought them.’ She looked appreciatively at the plate of stew Gran was handing her. ‘Gosh, that looks good and smells better! If I could take a plateful of that round to old Clackem I’d guess I’d be her favourite pupil for the whole of next term. Oh, Gran, you’re a princess so you are!’