Even now, after a month of living with her mother-in-law, there was a lump in her throat as she stood on her mother’s doorstep. Cynthia looked after Robbie in the daytime most days, and for the first few days of her own and Norm’s move to Saltley, Em had cried when she had had to come back as a visitor.

‘Back again!’ Cynthia said, opening the door, for Robbie to push inside. She was already dressed and ready for them.

‘I’m wet, Nanna!’

‘Well, you should’ve stayed under the umbrella,’ Em grumbled, putting it down and shaking the drops off outside the door.

Breakfast was still on the table, and Joyce and Violet were both on their way out to work. ‘Bye!’ they yelled, hurrying out into the wet.

‘D’you want any more to eat, Robbie?’ Cynthia asked. ‘Not that I’ve got much.’

Robbie, who was on the floor, getting his marbles out of his pocket, shook his head emphatically.

‘Don’t get those out in here!’ Em said. ‘Nanna’ll fall over them and hurt herself. I’ve told you – only outside.’

‘Has Granddad finished the moke yet?’ Robbie asked, scrambling up off the floor. A moke was a little car made of pram wheels and leftover bits of wood, to sit in and push along with your feet – unless your mates would push you. Bob was in the middle of making one for him.

‘You know, Norm calls them goeys,’ Em said.

‘Does ’e?’ Cynthia said absently, clearing things from the table. ‘You can go and look at it, Robbie – he did a bit more last night. It’s in the privy, but don’t go getting wet!’

‘I wanna take it out!’ Robbie squeaked excitedly.

‘Well, what you want and what you’ll get’re two different things,’ Cynthia told him tartly. ‘Now be quick, and don’t get wet. You got time for a cuppa?’ she asked Em as Robbie scurried out to the back.

‘Not really, but he won’t mind if I’m a bit late.’ Em sat down wearily. Her mother seemed in better nick than she did herself these days. All the inconveniences that during the war were a heroic sacrifice were now just a tiresome nuisance.

‘All right?’ Cynthia looked at her and handed her a cup of stewed tea.

‘I’ll survive,’ Em said, stirring sugar. ‘He’s getting to be a handful, though.’

Over the time she had been living with the Stapletons, Robbie had been a constant worry. At first he had refused to settle there, suffering from the separation from his grandparents and aunties and from the only home he had ever known. He took against Norm and his mom and dad, and screamed for ages when Em tried to put him to bed. It was only Edna Stapleton’s kind firmness – which Em had found almost unbearable, even when she knew her mother-in-law was right – that had got him to begin settling in.

‘Don’t just give in to him every time,’ Edna told her. ‘I know it sounds bad and that, but if you just give in and go up to him every time, he’ll have you wrapped round his little finger. You have to be firm. He’ll get used to it soon enough.’