‘But that sounds like Esther. She’s a good egg,’ Charity said.

‘Have you known her long?’

‘Oh yes, since forever!’

Maggie’s heart sank but lifted again as Charity added. ‘She’s more a friend of the family than my particular pal though. My eldest sister, Faith, and Esther go back yonks.’

‘Well, thanks again, for the loan of the shawl.’

‘My pleasure. Say, are those other girls being spiteful to you?’

‘No!’ Maggie said, a little too quickly and Charity narrowed her eyes, as though not quite believing her.

‘I can’t abide bullies,’ Charity went on. ‘You have to face up to them, or they carry on. Hitler’s bullying the whole of Europe, of course. But we’re standing up to him.’

Maggie nodded. She supposed that was true; she’d never thought of it like that.

Charity swapped the pitchfork for a broom, swept up the last of the straw and muck, pushed the barrow to the side of the stall and wiped the back of her hand across her brow.

‘Phew, there, done! Come and sit down. You can share my sandwiches.’ She looked over towards the hen house and called, ‘Gill! Lunchtime!’

They sat on a bale of straw and Gill – a strong-looking girl with dark hair plaited down her back – joined them. They watched as the pig jerked its head out of the now-empty bucket and snuffled around the stall, grunting contentedly.

Charity pulled a gas mask carton out of her knapsack and opened it. ‘Help yourself to a jam sandwich,’ she said but Maggie shook her head. She couldn’t take the girls’ lunch. Goodness, they needed it, the amount of energy they were using up.

Charity stretched her legs out and winced. ‘I’m aching all over. We’re permanently aching, aren’t we, Gill?’

‘Yes, but it could be worse. At least we don’t have to kill rats.’

‘Rats?’ Maggie thought of Tabby in the barn and wondered if she’d made her first kill yet.

‘It’s a real job!’ Gillian said. ‘A girlfriend of mine is down in the West Country and it’s all they do all day: kill rats!’

Charity nodded. ‘Anti-vermin squad. They kill thousands of the blighters.’

Maggie shuddered. She didn’t dare ask how they did it. Surely not with their bare hands? It didn’t bear thinking about. It made her job – sitting at a desk, in a room with a view and drinking tea at regular intervals – seem awfully tame.

‘Speaking of rats,’ Maggie said. ‘I brought my cat, so she might catch a few, if she gets the hang of it. A little tabby.’

Charity’s eyes were wide. ‘You brought your cat? From London?’