‘An’ very particular is our Timothy,’ added Aloysius with satisfaction. ‘Allus does things in t’right order.’

Tom stepped forward. ‘I could deliver it back to your house if you like,’ he offered. ‘It’s no trouble, and then you could ride it to school tomorrow.’

Lily smiled. ‘That’s very kind.’

Vera looked at the two of them with a new interest.

It was a perfect evening and Lily wheeled her bicycle into the garden shed. It had been a surprise when Tom Feather had offered to deliver it back to her home. As she locked the door she sighed. Around her the air was soft as the light finally began to die. Above her head the vast sky over the plain of York was turning purple, studded with myriad stars.

She had begun to enjoy being part of the local community and hoped to make new friends. As she walked back towards the bright lights of the cottage she reflected that it had been an eventful few days – and largely because of her new bicycle.

Chapter Three

A Surprise for Ruby

It was a cold autumn morning on the first day of October as nineteen-year-old Ruby Smith stared out of her bedroom window. In her arms she held her son, Andy, now a year old, and welcomed his warmth against her winceyette nightdress.

Beyond the untidy garden at 7 School View on the council estate, the distant hills were shrouded in a blanket of mist. The season was changing and the trees stood like spectres in the grey dawn, while fallen leaves covered the land like scattered souls. Trails of wood smoke drifted from the nearby chimney pots and Ruby shivered. She felt unwell again, but another demanding day lay ahead and her child needed feeding.

The bedroom door creaked as she walked out on to the landing.

Her husband, Ronnie, stirred. ‘Bring us a nice cup o’ tea, luv.’

‘Tell ’im t’get ’is backside out o’ bed,’ shouted a strident voice from the hallway.

Ruby’s mother, thirty-nine-year-old Agnes, was putting on her threadbare coat before catching the early bus into York. She worked at the Rowntree’s chocolate factory and over the years had become an expert in hand-decorating fine chocolates. She waited to give her grandson a kiss on his forehead before setting off and then looked at Ruby. ‘Y’look a bit peaky this mornin’,’ she said. ‘Try an’ get some rest.’

An’ pigs might fly, thought Ruby as she lifted Andy’s little hand so he could wave goodbye.

The bell above the door of the General Stores rang and Vera walked in.

‘Good morning, Vera,’ said Prudence Golightly. Prudence was the thirty-five-year-old owner of the shop and a dear friend of Vera’s. The diminutive shopkeeper mounted the next wooden step behind the counter to be on the same eye level as Vera.

‘Good morning, Prudence. Just some sugar for the staff-room, please.’

‘And how’s the new typewriter?’