Jessie gave me a frown so like Clementina’s that my face twitched with trying not to laugh.

Clementina pushed her again.

Ay ay, Jessie said. So grudging.

What’s that, Miss Jessie? her mother demanded. Ay ay WHO, d’ye care to say?

The frown deepened, but Jessie said, Ay ay, Un-ty Meggie.

Hal, happy little thing he was, had been chattering away to himself but sobered at the sound of his sister’s voice. He looked at her and up at me.

Ay ay, he echoed solemnly. Un-ty Meggie.

I am too young to feel old, I thought.

I reached out a hand to each of them but they shrank back.

Clementina tsked.

Come with me, I said firmly, leading them to a big pinewood box in the kitchen.

Once a week, factory staff were allowed to buy a huge bag of broken biscuits for sixpence. I hefted the sack onto the table and scooped out bits and pieces by the handful: Cream Fingers, Nice, Gingernuts, Chocolate Creams.

Suspicion drained from Jessie’s face as I filled her hands, and Hal’s eyes widened. Both of them looked to their mother for a nod before stuffing their mouth with crumbs and buttercream and sugar. Not until they’d finished, and I was wiping their sticky hands and grinning faces on my apron, did I dare glance over at Clementina. But I wasn’t fooled by the scowl, the shake of her head: she didn’t begrudge me my shameless bribe. She was glad we were friends, me and the children, and never mind how.

Once they were cleaned up, she ushered them to play in the corner with a bag of things that rattled and tinkled, and poured two cups of lukewarm tea from the pot.

So where have they gone, Magnus an’ Stivvy?

Her forehead furrowed. Some place called … now, what did they say? The Anchor? Said they’d not be long, an’ they better not be!

Well, there wasn’t much money for it to be otherwise, and Magnus was not much of a drinker then, so I expected they’d be turning up any minute. I fancied Clementina thought the same, and there were things she wanted to say before they did.

So ye’re happy, quinie? she asked as I sat down opposite her. Happy in this place?

Aye. Happy enough. An’ ye’ll be too.

She shrugged. Stivvy has his mind set on this farm. A fisher an’ a gutting quine! All this way, an’ I’m to turn m’self into a crofter’s wifie now!

She shook her head. Show me your hands, quinie.

I held them out at once and she tut-tutted and pulled a face.

I sighed. Herring hands …

Salt an’ gipper hands …

Biscuit factory hands …

A disaster! And Clementina’s big snorting laugh set me off too.