Heads bent they hurried on and soon the town came into view below them. Beyond the harbour the sea was choppy and the girls felt sorry for the fishermen who would be out on it. They had a living to make regardless of the weather and went out in atrocious conditions at times. There were very few people about, most preferring to stay in the warm, but as they passed the town hall, Amber’s stomach did an uncomfortable flip when she saw Bertie Preston coming towards them with another young chap.

The last time he had seen her he had been scathing but from the gossip she had heard he’d had a change of heart again and was keen to woo her once more as his first words proved.

‘Ah, Amber, I were hopin’ to see yer,’ he said pleasantly as he strolled towards her. His top hat was set at a jaunty angle and he was wearing a pin-striped suit and a gaudy waistcoat topped off with an old silk cravat that looked totally unsuitable for such cold weather.

‘Were you? I don’t know why. I thought we’d said all we had to say to one another,’ Amber responded with her nose in the air.

‘Now, don’t be like that.’ He extended his hand but she ignored it. ‘Yer know deep down that you an’ me are goin’ to end up together one day; it were written in the stars. An’ you gettin’ a fancy job up at the big ’ouse shouldn’t change that. I’m prepared to forget the way you’ve treated me an’ what people are sayin’ about yer an’ we can go on from ’ere.’

Amber stared at him coolly. ‘That’s very kind of you, Bertie. But when are you goin’ to get it into your head that I don’t want to be your girl? I ain’t now an’ I never will be! An’ it’s nothin’ to do wi’ me new job!’

She saw angry colour flame into his cheeks as Nancy looked on with her mouth gaping open. Bertie had a reputation for being violent at times and she wondered how Amber dared to speak to him that way, especially in front of his smirking friend, who was clearly enjoying the spectacle.

‘Fair enough.’ His eye was twitching and his hands were clenched into fists as he stared back at her. ‘But you’re gonna regret this day, you just mark my words. Yer think yer too good fer the likes of us now yer Greenwood’s whore, don’t yer?’

The colour drained from Amber’s cheeks. ‘I am not Mr Greenwood’s whore,’ she responded heatedly.

‘No? Well, it’s funny how you got the job o’ carin’ fer his brats when ’alf the women in the village would ’ave snapped ’is ’and off to get the position, ain’t it?’