‘Course, they’re talking about making St Philip’s a cathedral,’ he said. ‘But that’s not why we’re a city. We’re a fine “city of a thousand trades” without all their carry-on.’

Margaret nodded enthusiastically, glad that this had diverted him from the subject of Philip Tallis. But it was momentary.

‘So – walking out with Philip Tallis, eh?’ he said. ‘Who’d have thought?’

‘Not walking out, exactly, Uncle,’ she protested.

‘Well, yer going out, and you’ll be walking.’ He looked at her with mock innocence. ‘What else would you call it, bab?’

Daisy called for her, wearing a deep green coat with large buttons. It reached to her shins and was at least a size too big, but as ever, Daisy, young as she was, looked striking. Margaret was glad that Annie had already set off for church, as she didn’t want any more caustic remarks from that direction.

‘Are you ready?’ Daisy said, excited. ‘It’s not a bad day and Pa says we’ll go into Birmingham!’

‘Yes – just let me get my hat on.’

Margaret already had her coat buttoned. She used the hat as an excuse for a last peep in the hall’s rust-spotted mirror. She pushed the pin through the hat into her hair and thought, Here goes.

‘Bye, Auntie!’ she called. But Aunt Hatt was in the back making preparations for her Sunday bath ritual and there was no reply.

It was bright and cold outside. Philip Tallis was waiting. His shoulders looked very broad in the big brown coat and he wore a bowler hat over his thick curls. Suddenly Margaret was taken aback at how smart he looked and her pulse sped up even more. He tilted his head in a gentlemanly manner.

‘Morning, Miss Hanson.’ And Margaret realized, then, that he was as nervous as she was.

‘Good morning.’ She smiled uncertainly, glad that they had Daisy with them, but then he smiled back, his eyes lighting at the sight of her, and she was struck again by his face, the gentle seriousness she saw in him, combined with a touch of mischief.

‘Oh!’ Daisy exclaimed, looking Margaret up and down now they were in full daylight. ‘What a lovely skirt, Miss Hanson! May I see how you look – will you unbutton your coat?’

‘Daisy!’ Her father said, horrified.

‘It’s all right,’ Margaret laughed. She was secretly gratified that Daisy had noticed. She turned aside and unbuttoned her coat for a moment. Daisy, her face serious, studied the ensemble.

‘I love that cream colour with it – like raspberries and cream.’ She clasped her hands under her chin as if the matching of colour was a serious matter. And Margaret knew Daisy was not a frivolous child. She was serious about everything she did.

‘It’s so much nicer than the colours you normally wear,’ she said, sighing. Then added, ‘Though you look very nice in those too, of course.’