‘When you were at school,’ Florence stared down at her work-red fingers, ‘… and in the evenings when you were meeting that policeman,’ she added pointedly. ‘I suppose you’ll be seeing him again tonight.’

Lily’s jaw set in a determined fashion. It was a look Florence had come to know over the years. ‘Yes, Mother, he said he would call by.’

Florence was becoming angry. ‘So – are you going out with him? You know that’s the last thing you should be doing.’

‘No, Mother, nothing is planned. I’m having my hair done after school as a treat and then I’m coming home to see you and Freddie – but I may choose to pop out later.’

Florence got up to leave. ‘As long as you know what you’re doing. Remember you have responsibilities here rather than fraternizing with a strange man.’ She stopped by the door and wagged her finger. ‘Don’t forget. There will be a cake when you come home. You know how much Freddie enjoys blowing out the candles.’

The little boy looked up at Lily and she held him close.

‘Candles!’ he said and there was excitement in his eyes.

John Pruett stared out of his kitchen window at his new car. The previous week he had dipped into his savings and bought a 1946 Ford Anglia. It was a black two-door saloon and he had spent the weekend polishing it to a glassy shine. He was disappointed that it was now covered in snow.

The car was his pride and joy, and he was sure Miss Briggs would be impressed. He had given this much thought over the past few weeks. Above all he wanted her to see him as more than simply a professional colleague. In other words, he hoped he might be Lily’s friend and, with a car, there was a chance he could compete with Tom Feather for her affections.

This was a new experience for John – a nagging ache that he didn’t understand. It can’t be love, he thought. That would be ridiculous – this was a feeling more akin to indigestion. Even so, he was aware that Lily had brought light into the shadows of his quiet life, colour into his monochrome existence. After school and away from his headteacher’s desk he was occasionally tongue-tied in her presence and he didn’t know why.

Also, it was her birthday and he had an idea. Even though the first snow had arrived during the night and the sky was an ominous grey, he thought of a way to brighten this special day. He would buy her some flowers.

Meanwhile, further down the Morton road, Joseph and Vera were in their kitchen eating toast liberally covered with Vera’s prize-winning marmalade. The radio was burbling away in the background.

‘That’s interesting,’ said Vera, suddenly animated by the latest piece of news.