She made herself a cheese sandwich, then quickly freshened herself up. It wasn’t long after when she heard Roger’s van pull up outside, but she didn’t get butterflies in her stomach like she used to. In fact, she felt her mood drop at the thought of having to fight him off.

‘Hello, gorgeous,’ Roger said when she opened the door.

‘Hi,’ Sarah replied, but didn’t feel like saying much else.

‘You’re not still moping about, are you? Come on, Sarah, you’ve got to buck your ideas up,’ Roger said as he followed her into her room.

‘I’m just tired, that’s all,’ she answered.

‘Come here, sexy, I’ll liven you up,’ Roger said as he pulled her towards him, his hands creeping up to her breasts.

‘Roger … please … I’m not in the mood.’

With that he abruptly let go of her. ‘You’re never in the bloody mood, Sarah, and I’m not in the mood to put up with it. Your brother is dead – get over it, before it ruins the rest of your life. I’m going, but think about what I’ve said.’

With that, Roger walked out, slamming the door behind him. Shortly after, Sarah heard his van drive off. It felt like she was losing him, and maybe she should have chased after him, but she couldn’t find the energy or the inclination to win him back, and his words had left her seething.

Mo walked the aisles of the cinema, ushering people to their seats, and then hung a tray around her neck that carried sweets and cigarettes. It wasn’t the most challenging of jobs, but she liked the attention she’d invariably get from men.

‘Hey, miss, over here,’ Mo heard a man call. He was sitting with two other smartly dressed men near the aisle seats. They’d been a bit rowdy during the first half of the film and she’d politely requested they kept the noise down, but during the interval they’d become raucous again.

‘What cigarettes do you have there?’ the man asked.

The lights were up during the interval and Mo could see the men more clearly. They were older than she’d originally assumed, so she expected better behaviour from them.

‘Don’t I know you from somewhere?’ the man asked, studying her face intently.

‘I don’t think so, sir,’ Mo replied. She was used to men hitting on her and though she enjoyed flirting, there was something about this man that unnerved her.

‘Yeah, I do … I’ve definitely seen you somewhere before …’

Mo went on to list the cigarette brands she was carrying, but the man suddenly cut in.

‘I’ve got it – you’re the lady in the postcards … you saucy little minx. I tell you what, lads, she’s got a great pair under that uniform.’