She managed to pull herself together enough to work out that winter in Clacton, staying on at the Lesters’ boarding house, keeping rigidly away from the bottle. But she had to go out sometimes, or she would have gone mad. Once or twice a week she met Liza, who was at first very confused by Molly’s sudden turnaround.

‘I’m no good to myself on it,’ Molly told her. She made herself tell Liza about waking on the beach. She knew she mustn’t pretend. ‘If I go on like that, there’s no knowing how I might end up. If I start, I can’t stop.’

‘Oh, go on, one quick half won’t hurt yer,’ Liza would say at first. It seemed to make her uncomfortable going out with someone who didn’t drink alcohol. ‘You’re not turning into one of them Holy Joes yourself, are yer?’

‘Look,’ Molly said one night when Liza had been on at her. ‘My mom’s a drunk. I’ve seen the way it goes, and I don’t want to end up in her shoes – got it? So don’t keep on, or I shan’t bother coming out with you.’

‘Ooh, so-rry!’ Liza said huffily. But she got the message. She also craved company in these deadly winter months and didn’t want Molly to forsake her. They often found themselves the centre of attention from some lads. Molly’s looks always drew admiring glances, and Liza was curvaceous with a brunette bob, full lipsticked lips and a come-hither expression. And it was nice to have some young company. But Molly stuck to lemonade, acted as prim as she could manage and made sure the lads walked her home, quite early on in the night.

On their own, the girls laughed about the fellas they’d met, moaned about their jobs and gradually began hatching plans.

‘I’m sick to death of working in a hotel,’ Liza said. ‘I like to be outside more. Come the summer, I’m going to go and work at the camp – Butlin’s. You coming with me?’

Molly thought uneasily for a moment of all the memories she had of the Clacton camp. Did she really want to stay around here? But it seemed the best thing on offer, and as the winter passed she and Liza had begun to see themselves as beginning an adventure.

‘There’s more camps, aren’t there?’ Molly said. ‘We could get work at one, then another.’

‘There’s Skeggy and Filey. And there’s other ones, not just Butlin’s,’ Liza said.

Possibility seemed to open up in front of Molly. She liked the idea of keeping on moving, on and on, not stopping long in one place.

In the spring she had said goodbye to the Lesters, despite Jane imploring her to stay.

‘I feel if you were to stay on, I should get better,’ she said desperately.

‘I’m sorry,’ Molly lied. In the circumstances it seemed better than the truth, which was how stifling she found it living there. ‘But I’ve got to go home for a while. My mom’s ill and I’ve got to look after her.’