As she left the bus and its perspiring passengers, Em saw that going to the prison was a way of trying to tie parts of her life together when everything felt as if it was scattered apart. Molly was so far away, but most of all, Em was worried about her own husband Norm. The war in Europe may have been over, there was a new Prime Minister, Mr Attlee, a fresh start, but who knew how long the war in the East might go on? Em was horrified by the thought that Norm might be re-posted. He had miraculously survived so far – that was how Em felt – but if he was sent out east, surely his luck would run out? She ached for him to be home, to see their three-year-old son whom he’d never yet set eyes on, and to be a family properly, instead of all this waiting. Then she could stop feeling so anxious all the time. If going to pay her respects to Bert, however much he deserved what he’d got, could make things feel more right, then that’s what she’d do.

Walking across Cathedral Square to the next bus stop, she saw VOTE LABOUR flyers left over from the election, blown against the edge of the path. And she had voted Labour, though it did seem hard on old Winnie. Em didn’t dwell on politics much, but voting Labour seemed to mean that things would be fairer.

Shielding her eyes, she looked up at the grand edifice of St Philip’s Cathedral and thought that one day she must go inside and look. She had never been in there in all her life.

‘Oops – careful! You want to look where you’re going!’

The woman scolded, but did not really seem very cross, more amused. Em was aware of a green suit, remarkably vivid in these drab days, on a slender figure, neat black court shoes and dark hair taken up into a stylish pleat.

‘Oh – sorry!’ Em said, then looked more closely. ‘Katie? Katie O’Neill?’

Even after all this time, and in these smart clothes, the long, pale face of the girl who had once been her best friend was immediately familiar. She saw Katie recognize her and a confusion of emotions flicker across her face, first amusement fading in her eyes, then what seemed like fear, and finally a wary politeness.

‘I remember – you’re Emma Brown, aren’t you? You haven’t changed a bit.’

Em thought back to Cromwell Street School, where she, Katie and Molly had been classmates. She and Katie had been top of the class and best friends, playing and giggling their way through life – until Em’s family had run into troubles. After Cynthia had had Violet, Em’s youngest sister, she’d fallen into a depression and had to be taken into the asylum. Katie had turned against Em and had been unkind and spiteful, refusing to be friends any more, in a way that had hurt Em dreadfully at the time. Then, within about two years, Katie and her mother had disappeared from the area and Katie didn’t attend the school any longer.