It was morning break and Winnie Pickles was playing tennis with a stick and a tennis ball. The ball bounced off the school wall and rolled towards Lily. She picked it up and threw it back.

‘I want to be like Little Mo,’ shouted Winnie and Lily smiled at her exuberance.

Big Dave and Little Malcolm were deep in conversation outside the boiler house. There was no pile of coke there any more, simply the memory of exciting times at Ragley School.

Lily approached the intrepid duo. ‘How was your visit, David?’

Big Dave had gone with the other school leavers up to Easington Secondary School for an introductory visit. He paused before responding, as he knew he would be leaving his cousin behind. ‘It were fair t’middlin’, Miss.’

‘So are you looking forward to it?’

‘Well, they do woodwork, Miss, an’ ah like woodwork an’ buildin’ things.’

‘That’s wonderful, David, and they will have workbenches and proper tools.’

Little Malcolm was staring at his scuffed sandals. Two green candles of snot were dripping from his nose, but he was too full of regret to wipe them away with the sleeve of his torn pullover.

‘Malc is upset, Miss. ’E wants t’come to t’big school an’ all – but ’e’s got t’wait ’til ’e’s eleven.’

Lily crouched down and spoke softly. ‘The good thing, Malcolm, is that David can find out a lot about Easington and when you start you’ll know all about it.’

‘That’s right, Miss, an’ ah’ll look after ’im.’

Little did they know it at that moment, but Big Dave would spend the rest of his life looking after his cousin. In a future they could not comprehend, they were destined to be friends for the rest of their days; for this one year only would they be parted.

‘There you are, Malcolm,’ said Lily, ‘things aren’t so bad after all.’ She offered Malcolm her clean handkerchief. ‘Now wipe your nose and enjoy your playtime.’

Little Malcolm looked curiously at the spotlessly clean and neatly ironed handkerchief as if it was a strange, foreign object and then wiped his nose as he always did – with his sleeve. Some habits were simply ingrained.

‘Thanks, Miss,’ he said, handing back the handkerchief, ‘an’ ah’ll allus remember you givin’ us t’chance t’do that drawin’ when we could ’ave got caned.’

Lily gave a knowing smile. Another long sentence, she thought.

At lunchtime Anne Watson made a surprise visit, clutching her teaching certificate. Vera and Lily chatted to her and shared her excitement over her marriage to John Grainger next month, then Lily suggested she stay for the afternoon and work alongside her. Vera also mentioned that a new teaching post for the next academic year would soon be advertised and Anne showed clear interest.