‘You’ve got your house so nice, Vera,’ she’d say. ‘It’s a pleasure to visit.’

Vera was still working four days in the week and did not have much time for any social life. She had joined the Townswomen’s Guild and very occasionally went to their meetings, and was on civil terms with her neighbours, but she was so closed and aloof in her dealings with people that Enid was still her only real friend. Enid’s role, Katie could see, was to listen a great deal to Vera’s opinions and feel honoured to be her friend.

They were sitting at the table with the brown teapot in a crocheted cosy and their cups, and a plate with the remains of a cherry Madeira cake. The back door was open, giving them a view of the narrow strip of green garden along which the full line of whites hung, puffed out gently by the breeze.

‘Hello, bab,’ Enid greeted her, peering up at Katie through her wire spectacles. ‘Oh, my word, I think you get prettier every time I see you! Isn’t she lovely, Vera? Not long now, eh – and then it’ll be all over. Out in the working world.’

‘Yes.’ Katie smiled, pouring herself a cup of tea and hungrily cutting a slice of cake.

‘Your mom says you’re going to the Commercial School?’

‘Umm.’ Katie nodded, through a mouthful.

It was her last term at school. If anyone had asked her how she would like to spend her future days once her education was over, she might well have said, ‘Reading.’ But no one did ask, and sitting with your nose in a book was obviously no way to earn a living. Vera had decreed that Katie should apply to the Commercial School on the Stratford Road to learn shorthand and office skills, and Katie had agreed, having no idea what else she might do apart from work in a factory or shop.

‘And what about that friend of yours – Amy, is it?’

Katie swallowed. ‘She wants to work in Woolies – like her mom.’

She saw Vera frown.

‘I think I’ll go outside,’ Katie said. ‘Leave you to it.’

There was an old tree stump a little way down the garden and she sat down, holding the remains of her cake in one hand while she pulled off her socks with the other. The cool stalks of grass felt lovely between her slender toes. There was a little apple tree at the end of the garden, which already had tiny, hard fruits on it. She breathed in, enjoying the peace, hearing the rise and fall of the women’s voices inside. No doubt Mother had resumed her enthusiastic demolition of the character of Wallis Simpson –Twice divorced! And American! – who had been the reason for the King’s abdication.

‘Disgraceful!’ Katie mimicked. ‘Absolutely disgusting!’ She giggled to herself. They had all celebrated the coronation of the new King, Edward’s brother George VI, last month, and there was still bunting left fluttering across some of the streets to remind them. But even all that excitement had not given them as much to chew over as Edward’s marriage to her – that dreadful woman. Promises were made to be kept; it was disgusting. Katie could see her mother swell with outrage whenever she talked about it. She couldn’t really see why her mother got so het up about it all. Being the King and Queen didn’t sound much fun anyway.