When she got off the bus and started to walk along the high street, Jenny felt as if she was in another world. No tall elegant houses here with smart cars waiting outside for well-dressed passengers. The contrast was startling. There were women towing along scruffy children, and groups of men standing around with cigarettes hanging out of their mouths. The snatches of conversation that drifted her way made her flinch; they cussed freely, and the general air of poverty made her want to cry. How sheltered her life had been.

‘Hello, darling.’ A tall youth blocked her path as he eyed her from head to toe. ‘What you doing down ’ere?’

As frightened as she was, some instinct told her not to show fear and her head came up. ‘Minding my own business. Why don’t you do the same?’ Where the courage came from to utter those words she couldn’t imagine.

He tipped his head back and roared. ‘Oh, la di da.’ He grinned at his friend who had come to join in the fun. ‘Did you ’ear that posh voice?’

‘Yeah, sounds like one of those bloody blokes on the wireless.’

Every time she moved to get around them they blocked her way. She was breathless with panic, feeling very small, very young and very vulnerable. It had been foolish to answer back.

The tallest of the boys made a grab for her bag, and she swung it behind her back out of his way. She mustn’t lose this because it contained everything she owned of value. The other boy made to dart for the bag when a loud voice stopped them both. They turned to look at a burly man coming towards them.

‘Leave the kid alone!’

Her first tormentor glared at him. ‘We ain’t doing no harm, Fred, was just having a bit of fun.’

‘Well, bugger off and stop pestering decent people.’ Fred watched them with narrowed eyes until they were well down the street; then he turned his attention to Jenny, who was now trembling in reaction. ‘You shouldn’t be here on your own, miss. Those kids don’t mean no ’arm, but they can be frightening if you don’t know them.’

‘Thank you for helping me, Mr …?’

The man’s stern features broke into a smile. ‘Just call me Fred. Now, where are you heading?’

She didn’t know why, but she felt she could trust him. He might be shabby, but there was something about him. He was about forty-five years old, she guessed. He looked clean, and his pale blue eyes had a glint of kindness in them. ‘I’m looking for a pawnbroker’s.’

‘Ah, well, you’ve come to the right place, then.’ His fierce frown was back again. ‘Need money, do you?’

She nodded in embarrassment.

‘You’d better do something about your accent, ’cos they’ll know you’re new to this and take you for a ride.’