Of late, they had also been thinking about a new venture, that of opening a small refuge for girls like Ellie who had been sucked into a life of prostitution and despair, and who needed practical help to escape it. Mrs Walton had died peacefully in her sleep some months before and, true to her word, the old lady had left everything she possessed to Ruby. It was Ruby and Edward’s plan to name the refuge after Mrs Walton, something they knew would have pleased her. Ruby’s businesses had also gone from strength to strength, and she could think of no better way to use the legacy and the growing wealth they’d accumulated. Edward had spoken to the local branch of the Labour Party about it and they’d been fully supportive, no doubt thinking it would increase his chances of being elected as their MP, but that wasn’t why he wanted to do it. He knew Ruby grieved every day for her friend, and doing something constructive to help other girls would enable her to come to terms with Ellie’s tragic death, something he knew hadn’t happened yet.

He glanced at his wife as they walked arm in arm towards the park where they were taking the children for their Sunday afternoon stroll, the girls just in front of them swinging George between them who screamed with delight every time his chubby little legs flew into the air.

Ruby caught the look and smiled at him. She was heavily pregnant with their fourth child who was due in six weeks at the beginning of December. She and Edward were thrilled about this, but it had caused yet another difficult conversation with her mother. Cissy had been scandalized when Ruby had continued working throughout her pregnancies, returning to oversee each of the two shops and the clothing factory within weeks of the babies being born when she would leave them in Edward’s care for a while. They worked their daily routine between them, manipulating his council work and party work with her business obligations, along with the soup kitchen every other day, and the care of the children. Edward was a complete anomaly to her mother the way he wanted to be involved in every aspect of home life, changing nappies and babysitting the bairns, tackling washing and ironing and housework, and – crime of all crimes – cooking meals. Ruby had learned the uselessness of explaining to her mother that they shared all these tasks between them and worked as a team, and she had given up trying. She and Edward were supremely happy with the way things were and that was all that mattered.