Harriet Watts was a small, comfortably rounded woman with vivacious brown eyes and dark chestnut hair twisted back in a soft, becoming style. There was something exotic about Aunt Harriet which appealed immediately to Margaret. She was wearing a dress of dark crimson with a white collar, and in the gloom, points of golden light glittered from her ears and from a brooch at her throat as she hurried to greet them.

‘Margaret – oh, look at you!’ Aunt Harriet stood on tiptoes in her elegant little shoes, to kiss her cheek. ‘Well, I never – you’re taller than me now!’

Margaret felt the tears come at this warm welcome, even though she did not mean to cry.

‘And little Annie – oh, my word. You’re – seventeen, is it – already?’ Annie was kissed and pressed for a moment against Aunt Hatt’s sturdy, lavender-scented form. Their aunt stood back and gazed at both of them again. The gold earrings glistened as she moved her head.

‘Both so lovely. Oh, Eb’ll be delighted to see you. He’ll be through in a little while – he’s got a bit of a rush on today. Come through to the back . . . Oh, Jack!’ He was still lurking in the hall, holding his hat. ‘You can go now, thank you.’

‘I, er . . . Oh . . . Right.’ He disappeared up the staircase in front of them, the straw hat pressed to his chest.

‘Thank you, Mr Sidwell!’ Margaret called after him timidly, feeling that he had not been given quite enough credit for his efforts.

‘He’s a good lad,’ Aunt Harriet said, rolling her eyes comically. ‘Now, the front room here is the office.’ She put her head round the door for a moment. ‘Girls – these are my nieces, Margaret and Annie. I’m just going to settle them in.’

Margaret saw two young women, not much older than themselves: one, handsome and dark-haired, seated at a small desk; the other, a plump girl with round cheeks and spectacles, standing at a bench which ran under the window.

‘These are my right-hand women,’ Aunt Hatt said. ‘This is Susan –’ she indicated the seated woman, who bowed her head solemnly – ‘and Bridget.’

She looks nice, Margaret thought, as Bridget said hello and smiled at them. The room was very crowded, crammed full of desks heaped with papers and shelves full of ledgers. On the bench was a pair of weighing scales.

‘Now, this is our room.’ Their aunt led them along the passage. In a recess in the wall to the left were pegs, on which hung coats and hats. ‘I try to keep it nice. So much of the house is given over to the business, but – anyway, we’ll soon have our new house, away from here! Did you know we are moving out – we’re building a house! I’ll take you up to your room presently – but I expect you’d like a cup of tea?’