‘Goodnight to you too,’ she muttered, in Lena Crosby’s whingeing voice.

Then, dithery with nerves, she gathered up her things and hurried to the place where Simon was to pick her up. That was what she called him in her mind already: Simon, Simon . . .

His car came cautiously along with its blacked-out lights and braked beside her. Once again, he jumped out and helped her in, and she liked the way he was so gentlemanly. Not that she had any other males to compare him with except Uncle Patrick.

‘There,’ he said when they were both settled inside. ‘At last! I thought the day would never end. Now – I’m taking you out for dinner.’

‘Dinner?’ she said, startled, picturing her tea drying up in the oven at home.

‘Well, what passes for dinner these days. I’d love to be able to wine and dine you properly, but as it is, there’s a perfectly good British Restaurant in the parade, not far from my house – all right if we go there? Slumming it just a bit, I know, but I can’t drive too far afield and the food’s quite adequate. The main thing is, we can have a chat away from the ranch, as it were.’

Katie wasn’t the least bothered about where they went, she was so amazed at actually being with him, in his car. And it was so dark outside that he could have taken her to Timbuktu and she wouldn’t have known the difference. As they drove slowly away from the factory, to her relief he chatted away, telling her more about his family, his older sister Sue and her little boy Kevin.

‘He’s a smashing little kid,’ Simon said and Katie was warmed to hear the fond tone in his voice. It seemed promising that a man should like children. She enjoyed looking at his profile as he drove, knowing that he could not turn to look at her for long. ‘He’s five now and already keen on football. Richard – that’s my other brother – and I always play with him when we see them. They live out in Bromsgrove fortunately, away from the worst of it. You must have had it bad where you live?’

‘Oh my goodness,’ she said. ‘Every night now it still seems like a miracle that you can get into bed and go to sleep without spending half of it shivering under the stairs!’

‘Under the stairs? Didn’t you have a shelter?’

‘Well, no. The thing is, there’s only Mom and me, and we didn’t have anyone to help put up an Anderson. The understairs cupboard in our house is just about big enough for the two of us, so we made do.’

‘What about those other ones: the cage type?’

‘Morrison – no. We didn’t like the idea of that taking up half the house. Anyway,’ she said lightly, ‘we survived, didn’t we?’