John was seated in the centre, flanked by Lily and Vera. The younger children sat cross-legged on the grass and the older ones stood in a line behind them. Vera had chalked ‘1952’ on a slate board and it was propped in front of the toecaps of John Pruett’s highly polished black leather shoes.

‘Right everyone, look at the camera and smile please,’ said Tom and the class of ’52 froze for their special moment in time.

Everyone did as they were told and looked at the camera … except Lily. She was looking at Tom.

Later, Lily was on playground duty and pretending to watch the goldfinches in the hedgerow pecking at the ripe seeds while keeping one eye on Tom as he walked down the steps of the entrance porch.

He smiled when he saw her. ‘Miss Briggs, how’s the bicycle?’

‘Perfect,’ said Lily, touching her cheeks and hoping she wasn’t blushing. ‘It’s running well. Mr Pratt’s son did an excellent job, but after half-term I shall catch the bus.’

‘Probably wise with the darker days coming up.’

They both leaned back against the school wall. Around them the hedgerows were rich with wild fruits. A feast of jams and jellies was in store for the villagers of Ragley as autumn shifted towards winter.

‘That was a wonderful talk, Sergeant Feather,’ said Lily. ‘Thank you for that. The children gained a lot from it.’

Tom nodded. ‘It’s important to keep them safe.’ Then he looked around. Children were running, skipping and kicking a football. None was within earshot.

‘Perhaps you could call me Tom when I’m off duty?’

It was Lily’s turn to smile. ‘Very well.’

He glanced at his wristwatch. ‘Anyway, things to do, must press on.’

As he turned away, Lily called out, ‘I’m Lily, by the way.’

He waved as he closed the school gate. ‘I know,’ he said.

Off duty, mused Lily.

It was half past nine and Ruby was in her steamy kitchen washing nappies. It was a messy, smelly business, as Andy went through six nappies every day. She stood next to a huge tub and pounded the posser stick up and down in the soapy water. As she worked, beads of sweat formed on her brow. She was turning the handle of the mangle when Ronnie walked in.

‘Where’s m’breakfast?’

‘You’ll ’ave t’wait, luv,’ said Ruby.

He sat down at the kitchen table. ‘Well, don’t be long – ah’m sweatin’ cobs in ’ere.’

‘Ah’ll ’ave t’feed Andy soon,’ said Ruby. ‘Can you get y’self some toast?’

‘Man can’t survive on bread alone,’ quoted Ronnie.

‘Ah’ll do an egg after ah’ve seen to Andy,’ she said in a tired voice. ‘Ah think there’s one left.’