‘Perfect,’ said Vera. ‘I’ve got used to it now. As you know, I’m not keen on change simply for the sake of it, but this really makes such a difference.’

‘I know what you mean,’ said Prudence. ‘I’ve just got some new weighing scales. It’s important to be exact these days, especially with all the food rationing and particularly with sweet things.’ She stared knowingly at the bag of sugar.

Vera smiled. ‘Mr Pruett likes two spoonfuls in his tea and he needs the energy to teach those children.’

‘Yes, he’s a good man,’ said Prudence and there was silence between them as she stared out of the window.

Vera guessed she was thinking of another good man – the love of her life. Jeremy, the brave Spitfire pilot, had been engaged to be married to Prudence, but in 1940 he had perished during the Battle of Britain when his plane crashed into the English Channel. Not a day went by without Prudence recalling their brief and happy courtship and mourning his passing.

‘Well, must get on, Prudence,’ said Vera, breaking the spell.

As she left the shop she saw Ruby Smith pushing a battered old pram and carrying a shopping bag.

‘G’mornin’, Miss Evans,’ said Ruby.

Vera noticed that Ruby’s rosy cheeks were a little more red than normal and she looked as though she had been crying.

‘Good morning, Ruby, and how is Andrew?’ Vera peered down and looked wistfully at Ruby’s little bundle of joy.

‘Growin’ up fast, Miss Evans,’ said Ruby, recovering quickly from her dark thoughts, ‘an’ feedin’ for England.’

Vera thought for a moment. ‘If you call by the school later, we always have a few rusks left over.’

Ruby frowned and pushed her wavy chestnut hair from her face. ‘Ah don’t want no charity, Miss Evans, but thank you kindly.’

Vera smiled gently. ‘But it’s a gift, Ruby. It’s not charity – and you can’t say no to a gift for your beautiful son.’

Ruby stared up at this confident lady. She was the most sincere person she knew.

‘Thank you,’ she said at last.

‘Call in this morning if you can,’ said Vera.

Ruby nodded in appreciation. ‘Ah’ll be there in two shakes of a cow’s tail,’ she said.

Lamb’s tail, thought Vera, but she said nothing as Ruby hurried into the shop to buy a loaf of bread.

At 7 School View Ronnie Smith sat up in bed. He was a short, skinny man with a big opinion of himself. Ruby described him as ‘seven stones drippin’ wet’. He had begun smoking Wills Woodbine cigarettes at the age of twelve, and now he lit up another, leaned back and reflected on his life.

Two years ago Ronnie had received a buff envelope on which OHMS was printed in bold letters. Enclosed were his call-up papers for National Service and he was sent to Winchester in Hampshire.