It was Saturday morning and Vera was busy in the vicarage kitchen preparing to make something special for the Harvest Festival – a coffee and walnut cake. As always, Vera made sure all her ingredients were weighed accurately and arranged neatly. She studied her mother’s spidery cursive writing in the family recipe book. It was a recipe she had completed many times. Vera loved baking and as she greased an eight-inch-square cake tin Joseph watched in admiration.

‘The secret is I weigh the eggs first,’ said Vera. ‘Three eggs weigh approximately eight ounces, so then I add the same weight of margarine and caster sugar. Also I flavour it with a teaspoon of Camp Coffee. It never fails.’

‘I don’t know how you do it with all the rationing,’ said a bewildered Joseph.

There were some secrets Vera preferred to keep to herself.

‘Ah well,’ continued Joseph, ‘God loveth a cheerful giver.’

‘Two Corinthians, chapter nine, verse seven,’ replied Vera without looking up from her mixing and Joseph reflected that his sister’s knowledge of the Bible had always been better than his.

Vera decided to change the subject and pointed towards a large tin of Nescafé. ‘I bought that for the staff-room.’

‘That makes a change,’ said Joseph with enthusiasm. He picked up the tin and stared at the label. It said it was a soluble coffee product and you simply had to put a spoonful in a cup and add hot water and milk. It sounded a good idea. ‘I imagine it will catch on with the modern generation.’

Vera walked to the sink and filled the kettle. ‘Yes, apparently Miss Briggs seems to prefer it.’

‘Different times, Vera.’

‘In fact, even Mr Pruett is beginning to change his habits.’

‘Really?’

‘So, Joseph, would you like a hot drink?’

‘Yes please,’ said Joseph and he handed her the tin.

Vera put it in the cupboard and closed the door firmly. Joseph frowned. Then she lifted her large earthenware teapot decorated with a pattern of flowers and placed it on her silver teapot stand.

‘Tea,’ she said firmly as she collected a pair of china cups and saucers, two teaspoons and a tea strainer.

‘Oh,’ said Joseph, ‘not coffee then?’

‘No,’ said Vera firmly in a tone that brooked no argument. ‘We shall drink tea, Joseph – coffee is for Americans.’

On Saturday afternoon Vera arrived in the butcher’s shop as Tommy Piercy was cleaning his window.

‘I’m here to collect my order, Mr Piercy,’ she said. Tommy replaced his sponge in a bucket of soapy water. ‘I thought Mr Wainwright cleaned your windows.’

‘Not any more, Miss Evans. ’E did a moonlight flit,’ said Tommy. ‘Up an’ went, ’e did.’

‘Why was that?’

‘Couldn’t pay ’is rent no more, so ah ’eard.’

‘Where did he go?’