‘Good job you came today,’ Em said. ‘I’m off work ’cause Robbie’s not well. He’s asleep at the moment. Mr Perry’s nice like that, if I need time off.’

They all sat round the table. The rest of the family were out at work. Molly tried to adjust to being here, to the thought that she would not be going back tonight or tomorrow to an ack-ack battery somewhere. It was a dismal thought, even though she was pleased to see them and to have a chance to catch up.

‘See your mother?’ Cynthia asked, a careful tone in her voice. Molly saw her exchange glances with Em.

‘No, and I’m not going to,’ Molly said firmly. ‘It never does either of us any good. Is she still in the same place?’

‘I think so,’ Cynthia said. ‘Down Lupin Street, though I’ve not seen her in a few weeks.’

‘She’ll have taken it hard over Bert,’ Molly said. ‘He was always her favourite. I s’pose he sort of looked after her, in his twisted way.’ She looked at Em. ‘Thanks for letting me know about it all – you know, for going along.’

Em had written after Bert was hanged, telling Molly that she had been to Winson Green, that the deed was done. There was nothing much to relate, except that she had run into Katie O’Neill again. Molly had greeted that news with a shrug. She had never liked Katie, whom she thought stuck up and spiteful.

‘That’s all right,’ Em said. ‘I just thought someone ought to pay their respects. Whatever he was, he was your brother.’

‘Yes, I know.’ Molly sighed. She knew Bert had never stood a chance really. His life had been sad and unpleasant, and his response had been to become vile to everyone.

‘I think your mother’s all right, in her way,’ Cynthia said. She hesitated as if not sure whether to go on, but then added, ‘There’s someone living with her.’

Molly looked up. ‘A bloke?’

Cynthia nodded. ‘I don’t know who he is – a great big fella, and dark . . .’

Molly thought of the last time she had seen Iris, sleeping it off in bed at four in the afternoon, beside a huge, stubbly, pot-bellied man. Was it the same one? It might be, might not. It hardly mattered.

‘She’ll survive, I expect,’ she said drily.

They sat catching up on news of everyone. Em’s brother Sid had recently married his girl, Connie, and they were living in one cramped room in Saltley.

‘It’s the devil trying to find anywhere to live,’ Cynthia said. ‘They wanted to move out on their own, but since Hitler’s done for so many of the houses, there’s not much going. They were lucky to find anything.’

‘That’s two weddings since the end of the war,’ Em said. ‘Sid’s was nice, we had a lovely day, didn’t we? And then there was the wedding of Carolina, Dot’s stepdaughter and Lou’s daughter. Well, I say girl, but she was over thirty: she’d left it ever so late! Anyway that was a real Italian do – hundreds of ’em – it was lovely, though, wasn’t it, Mom?’