‘Let’s make our way over to the piano. That’s where the bloke I like usually stands.’ Doreen craned her neck. ‘I can’t see him in ’ere at the moment though.’

‘What’s his name? This mystery man of yours,’ enquired Eliza.

‘I don’t know. I’ve only been in here twice before, with that Roger I dumped. He’s ever so good looking and always surrounded by fluttering females. You wait until you hear him sing. He’s got a lovely voice. I do hope he turns up. I’m assuming it’s his local.’

‘Let’s get this party started, shall we?’ bellowed the jolly-looking male pianist. There were whoops of delight as ‘Bye Bye Blackbird’ kicked off the evening’s entertainment. Queenie smiled. Aunt Edna sometimes used to start with ‘Bye Bye Blackbird’. Mary was always telling her to look out for signs. Perhaps this was one?

By 10 p.m., Queenie had already decided that this was the best night out she’d ever had. As much as she loved her mum, sister and Mary, it was wonderful to be able to temporarily forget about her shitty home-life and enjoy being a teenager with girls of a similar age.

‘That bloke’s looking at you again, Queenie. I bet he comes over in a minute,’ nudged Doreen. The pianist was taking a well-earned break, so they could hear themselves speak at last.

‘He’s got a kind face, Queenie. Nice eyes too,’ added Eliza.

Queenie turned her back on the lad in question. Dressed in a shirt, braces and checked cap, he reminded Queenie of one of the barrow boys off the market. ‘He’s not my type. I’m not interested.’

‘How can you say that without even talking to him?’ Eliza chuckled. She didn’t get any attention from blokes, but that didn’t bother her. Her parents expected her to marry a nice Jewish lad and had a list of possible suitors for her to meet next year.

‘He’s coming over,’ Doreen lied.

Queenie glanced around, then playfully punched her pal on the arm. ‘You fibber,’ she laughed. In her stunning red frock with lipstick to match, Doreen was getting plenty of male attention. ‘Why didn’t you like that chap who bought us a drink? I thought he was cheeky-looking,’ Queenie asked.

‘Not my cup of tea, and he’s a coalman. Imagine a man coming home every night covered in soot from head to foot. Sod that. I’d lock him out the bastard house,’ Doreen laughed. She came from an extremely rough family in Poplar, but like Queenie, was determined to better herself. She spoke nicely when working at the shop serving all those respectable Jewish women. Well, apart from that time she’d stubbed her toe in front of Mrs Rosenthal and a ‘fuck’ had accidentally flown out of her gob.

‘I’ll get us another drink. I’m having a lemonade now. What do you two want?’ asked Eliza.

‘Gin and tonic again for me, please,’ replied Doreen.

Queenie didn’t reply. She was fixated on a man in a smart suit who had obviously only just arrived, as people were greeting him and shaking his hand. His hair was black and he had a twinkle in his eyes. He was very handsome and at least six foot tall, but most importantly, he reminded her of Daniel.