Over the next few months Ruby continued to visit the Pembrokes’ house frequently on her afternoon off, and before she knew it, it was December and she was facing her first Christmas with Hermione. Her confidence had grown during the time she had been in Hermione’s care, especially when some of her designs had proved to be very popular indeed in the shops. So much so that Hermione had given her a rise in wages, so one afternoon she dared to ask, ‘Would you mind very much if I changed my Sunday afternoon off to a day in the week next week? I’d like to do a little Christmas shopping and the shops are shut on Sunday.’

‘No, you can’t change your day off,’ Hermione answered shortly and when Ruby’s face fell, she went on, ‘but you can have a week day afternoon off as well. You’ve earned it. Where were you thinking of going to do your shopping?’

Ruby lowered her head. ‘I . . . I’d like to go into Nuneaton but . . .’

‘But you’re afraid you might bump into your adoptive father?’

Ruby nodded miserably. She hadn’t been near the town since the night she had run away.

‘Well, you know what they say’ – Hermione looked at her sternly – ‘face your demons! You can’t run away from them all your life. And just remember, it was he that was in the wrong, not you. You go into Nuneaton, girl, and hold your head high.’

The more Ruby thought on what she had said, the more she realised that Hermione was right, and so one cold and frosty afternoon she set off. Her heart was hammering as she stepped off the omnibus and looked around at the familiar streets. It was a year since she had been there but so much had happened in that time. She was now almost sixteen years old and no longer the frightened little girl she had been back then but a young woman on the brink of becoming an adult, so with a deep breath she set her shoulders and marched into the market place. She was wearing a new coat and bonnet that she had recently bought from her wages and she received more than a few admiring glances as she strode along, which gave her confidence. It was market day and as she wandered among the stalls that sported almost everything anyone could need, from various foods to pots and pans and second-hand clothes, she made a few purchases and tucked them away into her bag. She was studying some brightly coloured buttons on one such stall when someone tapped her gently on the shoulder and wheeling about she found herself face to face with one of the regular customers who used to come into the bakery.

‘Why, bless me soul. I thought it was you, young Ruby.’ The woman who spoke was plump and middle-aged and Ruby smiled at her.