‘Of course,’ Georgie said, with a smile.

They heard his fast steps climb and descend the stairs and with further goodbyes, he disappeared.

‘He does most of the travelling for us because Eb won’t budge from home if he can possibly help it. Georgie’s even been to America!’ she said, clearly full of pride. ‘Mind you – I’m rather hoping, him being a married man now . . . Oh, and you’ll meet our little Jimmy . . .’

Aunt Hatt regaled them with stories of their grandson Jimmy, with whom she was obviously besotted. They would soon come to realize that most of the photographs on the mantel were of either Georgie or Jimmy. Georgie was Eb and Hatt’s only son and now he and his wife Clara had little Jimmy, they had decided to move out of their shared attic at number twenty-six. They had a newly built little house outside Birmingham, in a district called Handsworth. And it was close to there that Aunt Hatt and Uncle Eb were soon to move as well.

‘You’re lucky you caught us when you did,’ Aunt Harriet told them later as they ate Mrs Sullivan’s meal of brown stew with beans and potatoes which, Margaret found, went down very comfortingly. ‘Since Georgie got his own place we decided to move out ourselves – into the country. So we’ll be gone in a few months. We’ll have to take them out there and show them while they’re here, won’t we, Eb?’

They were all seated in the soft lamplight of the cluttered, cosy room. It was very warm and stuffy on this hot night, even with the window open on to the yard. Eb sat in his place at the head of the table, his napkin tucked into his collar almost as if he was at the barber’s.

‘Lucky for you we hadn’t rented out Georgie’s room!’ he said, through a hearty mouthful.

‘Do you need more space, Uncle?’ Margaret asked. She was increasingly aware of a painful throb in her temples; she felt utterly exhausted and was struggling to keep up a conversation. Eb chewed mightily and swallowed, wiping his moustache on the back of his hand.

‘Napkin, Eb! What do I give you a napkin for?’ Harriet scolded.

‘There’s always someone wants a workshop,’ he said, making apologetic use of his napkin. ‘I’ve got my shopping out the back, as you can see . . .’ He held his arm towards the window where another building loomed very close to the house. ‘But when we move out we can have all these extra rooms bringing in rent.’ He smiled jovially at this thought.

‘And we can extend the office into here,’ Aunt Hatt said, looking round the room.

‘Hmm.’ Her husband’s mouth was presently occupied with potato.