The room was heated by a Calor Gas heater and the smell of the gas and the sudden warmth made her feel slightly faint. She ordered some stamps, but he did not move. He sat behind the counter like a Dickensian clerk at his desk and stared at her over his glasses. She was embarrassed and increasingly uncomfortable in the stuffy room. At last he took his eyes from her face and pushed the stamps over the counter towards her.

She was about to ask for the other goods she needed when the door opened and Elspeth came in. Her long hair was tangled and there was a hole in her tights. She was wearing a moth-eaten fur coat and a shapeless knitted hat. Her father ignored Sarah.

“Where have you been?” he said to Elspeth. “ We were worried sick.”

“I went out for a walk.”

“We thought that perhaps you’d gone out on the Ruth.“

“I did think about it. But I would have told you first. I wouldn’t leave Ben—you know that.”

“He wanted to know where you were.”

“Did he go off to school all right?”

Kenneth Dance nodded grudgingly. “He ran off early. You should have been here to see him off.”

“Yes,” she said. “I should have been.”

“Don’t do it again. Your mother’s been ill with worry.”

Sarah watched with interest. It seemed to her that Kenneth Dance was over-reacting. Elspeth Dance turned away towards the kitchen door, then returned to face Sarah.

“How’s Jim?” she asked.

“He’s well,” Sarah said.

“I never meant to hurt him. I hope he understands.”

They stood for a moment looking at each other.

“Did you pin a note to my wedding dress?” Sarah said suddenly.

“No.” Elspeth’s surprise seemed genuine, but Sarah was not convinced. “ He should have been mine,” the note had read, and “He should have been hers” was the inscription on the gravestone of the original Elspeth Dance. The similarity came to her suddenly and seemed too much of a coincidence.

Elspeth disappeared into the kitchen, then Kenneth Dance served Sarah as if the conversation had never taken place.