During afternoon break on the playground a group of girls led by Winnie Pickles decided they wanted to play kiss-chase. However, it required the involvement of at least one boy who was willing to run around after them and plant a kiss on the cheek of whoever was caught.

Eddie Brown looked up expectantly but, to his great chagrin, he was bypassed.

‘We’re playing kiss-chase, Dave,’ said Winnie, looking admiringly at the tallest boy in the school. ‘Do you want t’play?’

Dave ignored the request. He didn’t speak to girls.

‘What about you, Malcolm?’

Little Malcolm went bright red and looked towards Dave for reassurance.

‘Get lost,’ shouted Dave. ‘We don’t play wi’ no bloody girls.’

It was unfortunate that Lily appeared on the playground at that exact moment.

‘’E swored, Miss,’ shouted five-year-old Lizzie Buttershaw pointing at Big Dave.

For a moment Lily was undecided whether to correct the use of the past tense or press on with an investigation into who had uttered the expletive.

‘So, David,’ she said, ‘did you use a swear word?’

Dave was an honest boy. ‘Yes, Miss.’

‘But it weren’t ’is fault, Miss,’ shouted Little Malcolm.

Lily frowned. ‘There’s no need to raise your voice, Malcolm.’ Then it dawned … Malcolm Robinson had uttered a complete sentence and she couldn’t wait to tell John Pruett. ‘Having said that, Malcolm, I do understand why you feel you need to support David.’

‘Yes, Miss, it’s ’cause them girls wanted us t’play kiss-chase an’ we don’t play games like that.’

Another even longer sentence, thought Lily. Wonders never cease.

At the end of school Vera stayed on to practise on her typewriter and complete her Harvest Festival notices. There was the rattle of a galvanized bucket in the entrance hall and Vera was surprised to see Ruby Smith in the open doorway clutching a mop.

‘Oh, hello, Ruby,’ said Vera.

‘Mrs Trott asked me t’come an’ clean, Miss Evans, an’ m’mother’s lookin’ after our Andy.’

‘So where is Mrs Trott?’

‘Gone t’see Doctor Davenport wi’ ’er bad back.’

‘I see. Well, thank you for coming in, Ruby,’ said Vera. ‘I do hope it’s nothing serious.’

‘She said she did it liftin’ a new fire distinguisher.’

‘Yes, Mr Pruett is very safety conscious,’ said Vera, refraining from correcting Ruby’s unique use of English.

‘She’s tried ’avin’ a ’ot bath.’

‘Did it work?’

‘Dunno, Miss Evans, but m’mother gave ’er some goose grease. She said that never fails.’

Vera watched the young woman hurry towards the toilets singing Vera Lynn’s ‘We’ll Meet Again’ in a beautiful soprano voice, and she admired her fortitude.