The bank staff were back into the routine of work, the excitement of the festive season was over and, as Elsie constantly complained, there was ‘nothing to look forward to’.

That morning, when she grumbled again, Ray looked up from his desk and coughed. ‘Excuse me, Miss Davenport. I think you’re forgetting the forthcoming delectation and delight of the recital!’

She frowned. ‘You what?’

‘He means the concert in the village hall,’ Pam said drily.

‘Oh, that.’ Elsie shook her head.

Maggie and Ray exchanged rueful smiles. He’d been acting queer since Christmas, moping around and not his usual chirpy self. One of the older chaps, Mr Whitehouse, had actually asked if he’d had some bad news.

After morning break, when Maggie was helping to stack the used crockery onto a tray, Mrs Mason spoke quietly to her. ‘I’ve got an errand for you,’ she said. ‘How d’you fancy a little trip to The Smoke?’

Maggie frowned. ‘To London?’

‘That’s right. Her Ladyship’s gone to The Dorchester for New Year but she needs a few items taking. She’s staying longer than expected.’

‘But …’ Maggie wanted to ask “why me?” but it would sound as though she was inviting a compliment. What about her work with Lord Ashford? Surely, she’d have to ask him if he minded?

‘It was his Lordship’s suggestion,’ Mrs Mason said, reading her mind. ‘He knows her Ladyship’s got a soft spot for you. You’ll be quite safe with Brummie. He’s what her Ladyship calls SIT – safe in a taxi.’

Maggie smiled. She wasn’t worried about being alone with the driver but what would the other girls say when they discovered she’d been singled out yet again and this time for a spree to The Dorchester? They’d reached a kind of truce in the last few weeks. She didn’t want to do anything to upset the apple cart.

‘Can’t Brummie take it?’ she said. ‘He’s in and out of London all the time.’

Mrs Mason looked aghast. ‘The driver? Certainly not! These are lady’s items and should be taken by a female. Her Ladyship doesn’t have a lady’s maid anymore.’ She crossed her arms and sniffed. ‘That’s the sacrifice she made for the war.’

It seemed rather silly, but Maggie bit her tongue. She’d learned not to question how the gentry went about things.

Now she thought about it, an outing to London was rather tempting. Besides, she might get away with not telling the others. She’d be returning in style too, in a chauffeur-driven Bentley. Not that anyone would see her – they were hardly going to drive down the cobbled back streets of Poplar, but it would be an experience, something to look back on. If they wanted to give her time off and a trip to London, she oughtn’t really to complain.