Lily looked up sharply. It was important to avoid friction in the staff-room. ‘I’m sure Mr Pruett meant that these days it is unusual for women to be knowledgeable about sports that have traditionally been supported by men. Isn’t that so, John?’

Vera picked up the teapot. ‘Another cup of tea, Mr Pruett?’

Ruby was outside the General Stores when Ronnie suddenly appeared.

‘Where ’ave you been?’ she asked.

‘Ah’ve gorra job,’ said Ronnie proudly.

‘Flippin’ eck, Ronnie, wonders never cease! What’s t’job?’

‘Racin’ pigeons – ah’m lookin’ after ’em f’Billy Two-Sheds.’

‘But you don’t know owt about pigeons.’

‘What’s there t’know? Jus’ a bit o’ seed an’ water an’ mek sure they don’t escape.’

‘Sounds a cushy job.’

‘Cushy job! Ah’ll tell you who’s gorra cushy job, Ruby. That Peter Brough what you listen to on t’radio wi’ ’is dummy, Archie Andrews.’

‘’Ow come?’

‘A ventriloquist on t’radio!’ exclaimed Ronnie. ‘Y’can’t see if ’is lips move.’

‘But that’s entertainment, Ronnie, an’ you ’ave t’use y’imagination.’

‘Imagination, imagination,’ said Ronnie. ‘What’s that when it’s at ’ome?’ And he went inside the shop to buy a packet of cigarettes.

Well it’s a start, thought Ruby.

It was afternoon break and Lily picked up Vera’s Woman & Home magazine, which she had left behind in the staff-room.

‘Anne, have a look at this.’

There was an article entitled ‘Marriage Survey’.

‘It says here that a successful marriage all depends on the wife creating an atmosphere of happiness in the home. When a wife produces a family, she feels she has achieved her destiny.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Anne. ‘I don’t want to have children … well, not immediately. I want to teach first.’

Lily closed the magazine and wondered how Anne’s future husband would respond. She also reflected on her own life.

Vera had called in to the General Stores. ‘We need to give the pews a good polish,’ she said.

Prudence rummaged around in the back room and reappeared with a cardboard box full of tins of furniture wax. ‘We have a good selection, Vera,’ she said. ‘There’s Johnson’s Pride in a large economy size.’ Prudence knew Vera well. ‘Or you might prefer the scented lavender wax.’

Vera smiled and dreamed of Sunday’s congregation breathing in the delicate scent of her favourite flower. ‘I’ll take the lavender, please, Prudence.’ She looked in her purse, selected a shiny shilling and a threepenny bit and placed the coins on the counter.

The till rang with a high-pitched ding and Prudence relaxed with the knowledge of another satisfied customer. She was pleased she hadn’t produced the huge bottle of Pride liquid wax at five shillings, as that would certainly have been too common for the vicar’s sister.