‘Is that right?’ Mrs Church fixed her gaze on him for a moment. Then she said, ‘Well, I dunno as there’s much work for two in the shop, either. But it’d be nice to have company.’

She turned away from them, unbuttoning her coat.

‘It’s another freezing cold morning,’ she said.

‘That’ll be because it’s winter, Mrs C,’ Edward said cheerily.

‘They’re already queuing up at the soup kitchen, poor souls,’ she went on, ignoring him. ‘It breaks my heart to think of all those little mites going hungry. How can they go to school with nothing in their bellies?’ She shook her head sadly.

‘Perhaps we should take some of our stale loaves down there?’ Anna suggested.

‘Give away our stock, you mean?’ Edward laughed.

‘Only the ones we don’t sell that day,’ Anna said.

‘Unless you can sell ‘em the next,’ Mrs Church muttered.

Anna shook her head. ‘We’d never sell stale bread. Would we, Edward?’ She twisted round to look at him. He was staring back at Mrs Church, his mouth a tight line. ‘Edward?’

‘It’s better than wasting them,’ he said.

‘But you know Papa would only ever sell bread that was baked that morning.’

‘Yes, well, he didn’t have to deal with shortages, did he?’ Edward snapped. ‘You don’t know what it’s like. It ain’t easy when you don’t know when your next batch of flour is coming.’

‘All the same,’ Anna said. ‘We don’t want to get a bad reputation. It would be better to give the bread away, don’t you think?’

She looked at Edward. He was staring past her, his gaze still fixed on Mrs Church.

‘I’d better get back to work or there won’t be any bread at all.’ He turned on his heel and stalked back to the kitchen, slamming the door behind him.

‘Someone’s not happy,’ Mrs Church observed.

Anna stared at the closed door. ‘I’d better go and talk to him.’

‘No, leave him for a bit. Least said, soonest mended, I always say. That’s what I always did with my Ron, and it worked a treat.’ Mrs Church rubbed her thin hands together. ‘I’ll put the kettle on, shall I?’

She made the tea while Anna lit the lamps in the shop and pulled up the window blinds. Charlie appeared with a tray of loaves.

‘I’ve been told to let you know they’re fresh baked this morning,’ he looked pointedly to Anna as he set them down on the counter.

‘I should think so, too,’ she replied pertly.

Ida Church was right, she thought. Let Edward sulk if he wanted to. She knew she was in the right. And Edward probably did too, which was why he was hiding away in the kitchen.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

At eight o’clock they unlocked the shop door. But there were no customers queuing outside.

‘It’ll pick up,’ Mrs Church assured Anna, as she stood at the window, peering out into the empty street. ‘We’re seldom busy first thing.’

‘We used to be busy all the time,’ Anna said. ‘I remember when we had customers queuing outside for hot bread before the shop opened.’