“I’m going to call her Jemimah,” she said.

No follow-up call had come from Howard to discourage the gift of the rabbit, which had left Jean with the problem of how to transport the hutch to Sidcup. She had half hoped that Howard would foresee her difficulty and offer to come and fetch it, but this had not happened, and so she had been forced to order a taxi—almost doubling the cost of the gift. The driver had helped her to carry it to and from the car, earning every penny of his shilling tip. Between them they had threaded it down the narrow passage at the side of the Tilburys’ row house and into the back garden, Jean skinning her knuckles on the brickwork as she stumbled.

All the expense and inconvenience proved worthwhile, however, when Margaret was summoned downstairs for the unveiling of the surprise. The expression on her face, as suspicion and curiosity gave way to rapture, made tears spring to Jean’s eyes. The little girl was almost quivering with excitement as she flung herself at Jean and hugged her.

As Jean patted her heaving shoulders, she realized too late that this might well be the greatest, happiest moment of Margaret’s childhood, the one that she would always remember. By rights it belonged to her parents, but she, Jean, an interloper, had appropriated it for herself.

She understood, now, her mother’s misgivings and could hardly bring herself to look at Gretchen, expecting to see in her face some signs of resentment. Gretchen, however, seemed oblivious to these nuances, showing only a generous pleasure in her daughter’s happiness and needing no credit for it.

“Wasn’t that kind of Jean,” was all she said.

There had been no sign of Howard in the house or garden, though the Wolseley had been there in the driveway. It was only when Margaret said something about Daddy building a run for Jemimah when he got back from work that Jean remembered that of course for jewelers and other shopkeepers Saturday was a working day like any other. She felt a jab of disappointment, which quite unsettled her.

It had not just been for the pleasure of seeing Margaret, then, that she had set off that morning with such a light heart. Ever since that conversation in the car, when she had poured out her disappointments and frustrations to Howard as though she had known him for years rather than weeks, she had found herself thinking about him in idle moments, more than was allowable or wise. She would have to watch herself.

As this visit had to be incorporated into her morning errands, which still had to be done, Jean couldn’t linger once the dress fitting was completed, even though Gretchen invited her to stay and share their lunch of cheese on toast. She had promised her mother that this afternoon they would go through her winter wardrobe and sort out any items that needed spot cleaning or mending, and bag up anything especially threadbare for the church jumble sale.