‘Aren’t you going to school?’ he asked rather breathlessly as he reached her. ‘I thought we’d walk at least a part of the way together. Or are you going to drop me like a hot potato now I’ve scared off all your enemies?’ he added with a grin.

Tess stopped and stared up at him. Ever since what she now thought of as Gran’s little party in the flat above the milliner’s shop, she had seen hardly anything of Snowy. She had glimpsed him once or twice in the distance, sometimes with a group of boys his own age, sometimes alone, but he had never done more than grin and wave, had not invited her out or even strolled alongside her, chatting. Once, when she had gone up to Mrs Thomas’s shop in the late afternoon, she had found the place empty but for Snowy and Mrs Thomas herself. Snowy had been talking urgently, with many gestures, but as soon as he heard the shop bell ting and became aware of Tess’s presence he had stopped speaking abruptly. ‘We’ll talk later,’ he had said rather grimly, and had brushed passed Tess without a word, as though he had never met her. Tess had bought the items on her list and left the shop expecting to find Snowy waiting for her. If he was going home too they might just as well walk together as not. But though she kept a weather eye open she saw no sign of him, and was forced to conclude that he had no desire to be seen in her company. So now, on this crisp September morning, she felt justified in giving him a very cool nod before continuing on her way.

‘I’m going to call for my friend Lucy, not that it’s any business of yours,’ she said. ‘Cheerio.’

As she spoke she turned into Mere Lane, expecting Snowy to continue down St Domingo Road, but he stayed beside her, actually plucked at her jacket, and, when this did not stop her, grabbed her arm. ‘Listen, Tess Williams, you owe me something, because it’s your fault that Marilyn won’t speak to me. And now she’s been and gone and took up with some feller she met on holiday, and I’m out in the cold, thanks to you.’

‘To me?’ Tess’s voice rose to a squeak. ‘How can it possibly have anything to do with me? I’ve not spoken to Marilyn since I came back from the country, though I did take a peep at her on her haberdashery counter. So what’s your gripe, Mr Desmond White?’

At her use of his real name, Snowy grinned, but the grin was fleeting. A frown descended once more. ‘Remember the day you came home from that farm in Norfolk? Well, it seems that one of Marilyn’s aunties was meeting a train at the same time. The stupid old bag saw me giving you a lift with your suitcase and followed us. She told her daughter that I’d found myself a new girlfriend.’ He gave a contemptuous snort. ‘Some girlfriend! You’re just a kid, just someone to waste time with when your real girlfriend’s got other fish to fry. So anyway, the old bag told Marilyn I were two-timing her, and Marilyn met this feller—’