Viv still kept in touch with Betty Briggs, but Queenie told her sister to keep the letters to herself now. She didn’t need or want any reminders, was afraid the terrible nightmares might return. Since she’d been staying at Aunt Edna’s, Queenie hadn’t had a single nightmare, and she’d taken Mrs O’Leary’s advice not to allow herself to think of Ivan. If he popped into her mind for any reason, she would immediately switch her thoughts to Daniel O’Leary. Daniel had recently split up with his girlfriend and Queenie couldn’t help but hope that one day, when she was older, she would marry him. She’d never disclosed such thoughts to Mrs O’Leary, mind.

Queenie’s reminiscing was ended by her mum calling her. ‘I’m going to the shops. Wanna give me a hand? I hope the queues aren’t as bad as yesterday,’ sighed Molly. Meat, tea, jam, biscuits, breakfast cereals, cheese, eggs, lard, milk, canned and dried fruit had all been added to the ration list. The queues were ever so long as women stood patiently, ration books in hand, desperate to get their hands on much-needed items.

‘Yeah. I’ll come with you,’ smiled Queenie. Since her mum had shown some backbone and left her father, then refused to return home until he gave up the drink, they were on much better terms. She still loathed her father though. Without a drink, he was the most miserable man in Britain. With a drink inside him, he was just a stranger.

The following morning, Queenie headed over to Mrs O’Leary’s with her best frock, shoes and underwear in her hands. She’d only left school last week and was desperate to bag herself a decent job before all the good ones went. Aggie Brown already had a job, in the Trebor factory. That wasn’t for Queenie; she would hate being cooped up inside a factory all day long. Encouraged by Mary, she had her heart set on working in a posh clothes shop.

‘I’ve run you a bath, darling,’ Mary smiled. ‘I’ll put the kettle on too. How you feeling? Not nervous, I hope.’

Queenie couldn’t believe her luck when Patrick and Daniel had recently had a proper indoors bathroom fitted. Mary was forever running her baths, which was a dream come true for Queenie. ‘I feel OK. I think I’d be more nervous if you weren’t coming with me though.’

‘I still think you’re going to the wrong area, Queenie. If I were you, I’d try locally. You won’t like all that travelling.’

‘But the wages’ll be more in the West End, Mary, and the clothes nicer. Please let’s go there. I’ve never properly been to the West End before. I’d love to see where the posh people shop and live.’

Mary rolled her eyes. ‘It’s your call. But I bet you won’t like the posh people or their fecking posh shops.’

Queenie laughed loudly. ‘You’re so funny. Thanks for running my bath. I’ll get ready.’

The West End was a real eye-opener for Queenie. In the first shop where she asked whether there were any vacancies, not only did the woman look at her as though she was something awful she’d stepped in, the prices were exorbitant. One of the outfits Queenie looked at probably cost more than what her home was worth.