‘Maggs? D’you think . . . ? Am I good with people?’

‘Yes. I think so.’

There was a hesitation in her voice that Annie caught.

‘But?’

‘You’re very good when you’re not being too bossy, that’s all. You’re sympathetic and practical and you genuinely care for them.’

‘D’you think I could be a nurse? I think more and more that’s what I want to do. Look after people – make sure it’s done properly. At least, that’s something I feel right in doing,’ she added quickly. ‘Without being too bossy.’

In the darkness, Margaret smiled at this new humility.

Until now, Den Poole had turned up in Chain Street every so often. But that week he appeared every day, after school. He arrived looking sullen, said very little and ate as much as he could. With Daisy he did not need to say a great deal as she chattered on regardless and showed him things to do with his hands, which she said he was ‘getting quite good at, really’, in a tone of superior astonishment.

On the Friday afternoon, when Margaret was round at number twenty-four, to her surprise Den said, ‘Can I come tomorrow?’

‘But it’s Saturday tomorrow,’ she reminded him.

‘I know – but in the morning, like. Can I bring Ivy?’

Margaret realized suddenly that Mary Poole and Lizzie would both have to go into their factories for cleaning and Den would be alone with Ivy. She looked at Philip Tallis as if to say, It’s not my place to decide.

‘Yes, you can,’ Daisy said, seeming pleased at the thought of Ivy’s arrival as well. ‘Just for the morning because then Pa needs a rest,’ she advised him.

Margaret and Philip Tallis looked at each other and he rolled his eyes.

‘Well, all right,’ he said. ‘This once, anyway. I’m starting to feel we’re running a school here.’

Margaret had a number of jobs to do for Aunt Hatt for a lot of that Saturday morning, and it was nearly dinner time when she went next door to number twenty-four. Nodding to Mr Henshaw as she passed the office, she could hear from the laughter in the Tallises’ room that Den and Ivy Poole were still there.

Putting her head round the door, she was surprised to see the three children playing with little puppets. They each had one, or in Daisy’s case, two, all roughly sewn little animals, on their hands. Noises of goats and pigs, a cockerel and a donkey, were all being made at once. Margaret watched as Den, who had the cockerel on his hand, with a floppy red comb on its head, was pretending to peck off Ivy’s nose, rather too violently Margaret thought.

‘Cock-a-doodle-doo!’ he shrieked. Ivy, though giggling, was squirming to get away from him.