The work was piling up on her desk; pieces unfinished, pages unfilled, deadlines advancing . . . But never mind. She would take it home with her and catch up when her mother was in bed.

“Oh, would you? That would be so helpful.” She took a pen and a notebook from her handbag and began to scribble directions. “It’s only five minutes from the station.”

“I know where it is,” said Margaret with dignity. “I bet I could get there by myself from here.”

“Yes, I’m sure you could. But there are some peculiar people about.”

“I bet you are just going to sneak off and have lunch with Daddy without me,” Margaret said, and from Gretchen’s blushing denial it almost seemed to Jean that she might be.

“I’m not. I promise.”

Having satisfied herself that Margaret’s satchel contained her packed lunch and an explanatory note for her teacher, Gretchen set off along the Strand at a brisk trot, her new short haircut swinging.

Never throw away an old plastic raincoat. The hood cut off will make a useful toiletry bag. The large back panel may be used to line a suitcase to ensure safety from damp should the case get wet when traveling.

20

In late October Jean booked a week’s leave to take her mother away to the coast. In previous years they had been in the habit of going up to Harrogate to stay with Jean’s aunt and uncle for a week. They were the last link with her father’s side of the family and even after all these years her uncle still seemed moved to try and compensate for his brother’s desertion. He would give Jean the use of his car for day trips and never allowed them to pay for anything while they were his guests.

However, his health had been declining in recent years, a combination of emphysema and blocked arteries leaving him with poor breathing and mobility. Jean’s aunt had made it clear that they could no longer play host, but he continued to send twenty pounds for Christmas and birthdays. These generous gifts represented Jean’s mother’s only source of spending money.

For the last few years then, they had been forced to resort to the more costly option of hotels and boardinghouses. These trips used to take place in early September, when children were back at school and resorts quieter. This summer, however, Jean had been engrossed with the Tilburys and the weeks had slid past. It was now nearly autumn and nothing was arranged.

Her mother made no reference to this oversight, and somehow her silence on the topic had allowed Jean to avoid tackling it, but it was one of those nagging thoughts that returned to plague her during bouts of sleeplessness. Lying awake at 3 a.m. when nothing practical could be done, she would burn with guilt at her own indolence and procrastination, and vow to call in at the travel agent in Petts Wood at the first opportunity. By morning she would have forgotten.