Kathleen let herself into the car, slamming the back door. Alice saw Mr Keeble wince as she did so and sighed. She would miss her appointment with Cindy. ‘And my hair’s a mess,’ she wailed, but no one was listening as she made her way to rescue Peggy’s kids.

Alice had almost reached the wasteland when she bumped into Mary, who was hurrying down the entry and Alice could see she’d been crying. ‘Mary, are you all right? What’s up, love? Is it Malcolm, I know he’s a stickler for the rules.’

Alice’s voice tailed off as Mary shook her head. ‘Malcolm is a dote,’ she said, fishing in her pocket for a handkerchief. ‘It’s not Malcolm.’

Alice linked her arm through Mary’s. ‘I’ve got to check on Peggy’s kids and I was supposed to be having my hair done, so honest to God, I really do have something to cry about, look at the state of me?’

Mary looked up at Alice’s hair and smiled. ‘You look lovely,’ she said.

Alice smiled back at the young waif next to her. She had watched Mary grow up and had always felt as though they had something in common; and if Alice had been raised in a house and a community where people cared, she often wondered, who would she be? In recent months it had occurred to her that she would have been like the diligent, deep and thoughtful Mary. She had travelled a very hard road to get to where she was and never a day went by when she wasn’t grateful to be accepted by everyone around her.

‘Come on,’ she said, ‘you walk with me and if our Nellie is watching the kids, let’s go to the café and have us a cup of tea and a custard slice; do you fancy that?’

Mary couldn’t speak; she was so touched by Alice’s kindness, she was sure she would erupt into a fresh bout of tears if she tried to. Alice squeezed her arm. ‘Come on, over that cake you can tell me all your troubles. I’m sure you know I’ve had enough of my own over the years – and one thing I’ve learned is that nothing is ever as bad as it seems, especially when you’ve talked it out over a custard slice.’

*