Jeanie peered into the mirror and wondered if she could get away with a bit more eyeshadow. For once, she decided not to push it. Her dad would be waiting downstairs to see her to the bus stop and she didn’t want a row to spoil today. He preferred a more natural look to what he called Jeanie’s full face of slap and he even thought that her skirts should be below the knee. She had eventually resorted to taking her lipstick and eyeliner with her and applying it on the school bus, and rolling up her skirts at the waistband after she’d left the house. Honestly – she was sixteen! But he treated her as though she was still a kid, even though today she was about to become a working woman. She was already planning how to spend her first pay packet after she’d given her dad some rent money. He hadn’t wanted her to pay him anything at all, but she was adamant. For as long as she could remember, it had just been the two of them. He had always looked after her and put her first and now she wanted to contribute. Maybe he might be able to buy himself something nice for a change. Top of Jeanie’s list were some new nail polish and a Billie Holiday LP. She might not share her dad’s views on fashion, but their taste in music was much more harmonious. Ray had raised his daughter on the greats: Etta James, Nina Simone, Ella Fitzgerald, and, of course, Billie Holiday. Jeanie scrabbled through her jewellery box, pulled out a simple gold band on a chain and fastened it around her neck. It had been her mum’s wedding ring and she wanted to feel that her mum was with her today. For luck.

‘Jeanie! What the bleedin’ hell are you doing? Do you want to be late on your first day?’

‘All right, all right! Keep your hair on, Ernie. What’s left of it.’

What was left of her dad’s hair was hidden under the peak cap of his uniform as he waited impatiently for his daughter at the foot of the stairs. Ray Rogers had been delivering milk for over ten years, and he loved his job. But since Benny Hill had topped the charts with his song about the hapless milkman, Ernie, Jeanie had not been the only one to rib him mercilessly. He clipped her playfully around the ear as she galloped down the stairs and gave him a twirl.

‘How do I look?’

Ray shook his head and smiled wistfully. She was the image of her mother at the age when she and Ray had begun courting. ‘Where’s my little girl gone? You look lovely. And very grown up. Your mum would’ve been proud of you.’