‘The school will be closed tomorrow,’ Mr Coleman had said coldly. ‘Please take your things away at once, otherwise I shall be forced to leave them on the front steps to await collection.’

It would have been lovely to gather up the box and crown him with it before hailing a taxi and leaving with her pride more or less intact, but it was also out of the question. Money was going to be extremely scarce in the weeks to come; she must save such luxuries as humiliating Mr Coleman until she had a job once more. If she could get one, that was. In two more days it would be Christmas Eve, and unless she could get temporary work in one of the big stores in the city centre she would be having a poor holiday indeed.

So she had picked up her cardboard box and without a word to anyone else had left, telling herself that she had had a lucky escape. At least no one had even suggested that she was not suitable for the post. They had merely said that the school was overstaffed, that salaries were too high, so management had decided to retrench. I’m better off without them, Miss Trent told herself, sloshing along the pavement. Oh, and I’ll have to tell Myrtle that I can’t share that lovely little flat over the greengrocer’s shop after all. Oh, dear, and Myrtle’s been begging furniture and bits and pieces from her family . . . gracious, and I put down the deposit on a bed and a square of carpet for my bedroom floor from that nice Mr Isaacs on Brownlow Hill. I wonder if I can explain to him, get him to give my money back, since I won’t be needing carpets or beds. She felt a sob rising in her throat and stopped short for a moment, determined to regain control. She dreaded having to tell her friend what had happened, but after all it was not her fault and she was sure Myrtle would understand. There must be another staff member who would jump at the chance of sharing with Miss Taylor, who was very popular, but it was out of the question for Miss Trent herself. She simply could not move in with Myrtle on the first of January knowing that she would be moving out, possibly within days. The trouble is, Liverpool is a busy port, and that means accommodation is expensive, she told herself. When I was working in the Yorkshire Dales my room cost me five shillings a week, but even a half share in the flat was going to be twice that. If I were to move out of the city it would save me quite a lot.

At least her new spectacles had not cost very much. When she had first taken up the position of deputy head at the Peabody Academy she had heard one of the staff commenting on her looks. ‘All that fluffy blonde hair! She looks more like a chorus girl than a deputy head,’ the woman had complained. ‘I don’t deny she’s got all the right qualifications, but really! I can’t see the girls doing what she tells them to do, even when she scrapes her hair back and knots it into that sort of bun arrangement – is it called a French pleat? She just doesn’t look the part.’