He placed the package on Vera’s desk and removed the cardboard cover. ‘Well ’ere it is, Miss Heavens, a state-of-the-art, bran’ new, 1952 Imperial typewriter. It’s a ’uge step forward in typewriter technology.’

Vera did not like effusive men, particularly ones who dropped their aitches and compensated by inserting others in the wrong place. However, there was no doubt that the typewriter was very impressive. Originally the brainchild of typewriter genius Arthur Pateman, she had been reassured it was the brand backed by the government, particularly for use in the public sector.

‘Thank you, Mr Tingle,’ she said. ‘And is there an instruction booklet?’

‘It’s right ’ere, Miss Heavens,’ said Clarence, dabbing beads of perspiration from his brow with a handkerchief that Vera thought had seen better days and had clearly never been ironed. ‘All y’need t’know is standin’ before you.’

‘Pardon?’

‘I ’ave all t’knowledge y’might want.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes,’ said Clarence as he moved seamlessly into demonstration mode. ‘Your Good Companion Model Sixty-five replaced the Model Sixty this year, so it’s right up t’date an’ easy t’repair an’ service. Jus’ remove two screws – the ones holding t’ribbon spools cover in place – an’ bingo.’

‘Bingo?’

‘Yes, Miss Heavens, an’ not f’gettin’ a detachable carriage t’change y’fonts.’

‘May I?’ asked Vera. She sat down, took a deep breath, swept the arm of the carriage return and immediately fell in love with the ker-ching.

It was lunchtime and after a school dinner of fish and chips and mushy peas, followed by a bowl of something that resembled frogspawn with a blob of jam to make it edible, John Pruett joined Vera, Joseph and Lily in the staff-room.

Vera was reading an article in her newspaper under the headline ‘A Woman’s Place’. It said that in 1952 the average age for marriage was twenty and 75 per cent of women were married. It came as quite a shock to those women who had worked in the war.

‘Oh dear,’ said Vera, ‘it says here a woman’s place is in the home.’

John absent-mindedly nodded in agreement and Lily frowned.

‘That’s right,’ agreed Joseph.

The Revd Joseph Evans, as well as being the local vicar was also chairman of the school governors.

Vera looked up sharply at her younger brother. ‘What was that you said, Joseph?’

‘Well, it would appear that in an ideal world men would go out to work and women would stay and look after the house and children.’

‘What rubbish, Joseph!’ exclaimed Vera.

‘Surely you can’t deny that is the natural order of things?’ replied Joseph defensively, his cheeks becoming red.

Vera shook her head and returned to her newspaper. ‘I’m surprised at you, Joseph. I do hope you don’t mention anything like that during the Harvest Festival.’

Suitably admonished, Joseph left quietly to return to the vicarage.