The woman didn’t lift her eyes from the ledger. ‘Name?’ she asked, her fingers poised over the columns in front of her, ignoring the letter Peggy held out.

‘Peggy Nolan,’ said Peggy. She wasn’t used to such hostility and was very sure Mr Keeble would have mentioned her by name. All the women in Peggy’s life were friendly, Kathleen, the friendliest of all now that Maura had left. Maybe she should have confided in Kathleen, asked her to come with her. She would have done a better job of explaining things. The women on the four streets supported each other, they had their moments but they were used to a crisis, knew that each day work was provided, each week a pay packet arrived, did so by the grace of God. That, at any time, illness or accident could wipe away their security in a heartbeat, and when this happened, everyone gathered round.

They had all done it so often for Peggy but she had never had the means to give help in return. No one knocked on Peggy’s door to borrow a scrape of dripping or a cup of sugar, they knew there was no point. The street would feed her children tonight if she asked for help, she never worried about that, but she would cling to her last shred of dignity, she would not tell anyone how far in arrears she was with the rent.

The woman, obviously irritated at having been interrupted in the middle of her work, said, ‘What is the reference number on your letter?’

Peggy looked confused. ‘Sorry? I don’t know what you mean.’ She glanced sideways. Frank the Skank was now openly watching her and his amusement was ill disguised.

The woman peered at Peggy for a very long second over the top of her winged spectacles. ‘Give the letter to me,’ she said and held out her hand. She picked up her handkerchief before she took it and wrapped it around her fingers. Peggy’s own hand shook as she passed the envelope across the counter and slipped it between the folds of white cotton. The woman flicked it open, gave the letter a cursory glance, then ran her finger down a column of numbers in the book. And to Peggy’s utter embarrassment and horror, announced at the top of her voice, ‘Ah yes, quite significant rent arrears, it would appear. Wait there, please, and I’ll call Mr Heartfelt down to see you.’

She let the letter flutter to the desk and then, peering distastefully at her handkerchief, dropped it to one side of her typewriter. Peggy blushed from her toes to her scalp and willed the floor to open up and swallow her.

Frank grinned viciously and, holding Peggy in his glare said, ‘I thought so.’