Margaret felt immediately nervous, then cursed herself for being so. Sid Coles had spent a short while one day showing her how he set gems. She had loved having a chance to sit at his ‘peg’, the leather pouched across her lap, and have him guide her as she very slowly set a ruby into a gold clasp. This was just the same, wasn’t it?

‘That’s all right – you go,’ Aunt Hatt called from the office, before she could answer. Aunt Hatt had a soft spot for Daisy. ‘There’s not much for you to finish off here.’

‘What about the post, Aunt?’ Margaret called back.

‘Not to worry – Bridget can do it today.’

Daisy clapped her hands under her chin, apparently delighted. ‘Come on then! Pa said he’d help us today – he’s not too busy for once.’

Before Margaret could gather her wits, Daisy had seized her hand and started hauling her out of the door. Margaret was glad the child could not sense her pounding heart. Did this mean that Philip Tallis was going to teach her?

‘Pa!’ Daisy ran along the hall next door. ‘Miss Hanson’s here!’

Margaret could hardly breathe. For heaven’s sake! She was furious with herself for the state she was in, expecting Philip Tallis to appear any moment. But instead, Mrs Flett, their housekeeper, came along the hall.

‘Yer father’s out the back,’ she told Daisy. ‘I s’pect he’ll be in in a moment.’

‘Never mind.’ Daisy beckoned Margaret into the room. She felt strangely like a trespasser even though she had come at the girl’s invitation. ‘I can show you something.’

As Daisy pulled her coat off with a child’s impatience and threw it on a chair, Margaret glanced around her again at the simple room with the workbench up at the far end under the window. Smoky light seeped through the pane. As with their own back room, the light was limited by the proximity of the workshop outside. But the fire was lit and the room warm and comforting.

‘Here – I’ll show you how to do something easy,’ Daisy said loftily. ‘Pa’s teaching me how to make a bowl – but why don’t you make a bracelet? You’ll need something on.’

She went to the back of the door and produced an overall in a milky brown colour. Margaret wondered uneasily, as she buttoned it over her dress, whether it had belonged to Daisy’s mother, Florence Tallis.

‘Here . . .’ Daisy produced a length of what looked like wire, in a gleaming golden colour. ‘It’s better to practise on copper. Pa lets me practise with this – it’s cheaper.’ She tried it in a vague way against Margaret’s wrist. ‘Now – you have to shape it. This is a mandrel . . .’