Sarah swept the back of her hand over her forehead and wiped away the sweat. It was a scorching afternoon, too hot to be stacking shelves, she thought. During the school holiday, Lena was opening up the shop in the mornings, and Sarah paid Larry’s mum a few bob to look after Tommy so she could do an afternoon shift. Mo had offered, saying she was happy to have him without being paid, but she had been so good about how often she’d kept an eye on Tommy that Sarah hadn’t wanted to take liberties. Not only that, Tommy liked being with Larry and his mum so it worked out well.

She checked the time. Only another two hours to go. She’d pick up Tommy, sort out his tea and then freshen up before Roger’s arrival. Much to her delight, Roger visited her most evenings, and she often prepared him dinner. He’d always bring fresh vegetables from his stall, which sometimes reminded her of Mr Sayers and his allotment.

No sooner had Sarah finished stacking the shelves when the bell above the shop door chimed, and Sarah looked up to see one of her regular customers walk in. They enjoyed a natter while Sarah bagged the woman’s shopping, then, when she’d left, she made herself a cold drink. Heaving a sigh, Sarah then took the opportunity to sit down for a while, her mind drifting to the fifty pounds stashed at home. She had big plans for that money, but still hadn’t spoken to George. He’d been so ill, and now that he was home again, he was bound to have heard that she was seeing Roger. Unsure of her reception, she hadn’t been to see George, but her last thought before she stood up to serve another customer was that she’d have to bite the bullet one of these days. She just prayed it wouldn’t be a very awkward and uncomfortable meeting.

The customer came to the counter with a box of biscuits in her hand. It was only then that Sarah noticed the young woman’s vivid green eyes. They were the same as her own, the eyes she’d inherited from her father.

‘Excuse me,’ the woman said, waving the biscuits under Sarah’s nose.

Sarah’s mind raced, and her heart was pounding. This woman had to be related to her, possibly even her sister. ‘Sorry,’ Sarah said. ‘Half a crown, please.’

The woman fished in her purse for some change, but Sarah couldn’t take her eyes off her. She wanted to ask her name, and find out if she was the daughter of Ron Lyons, but she daren’t.

The woman handed her the money, then stopped and looked oddly at Sarah.

‘Do I know you from somewhere?’