Lily sat down and looked at the locals, mainly ladies drinking tea and eating cake. Many wore neat little hats and one had a fox fur draped around her shoulders. All seemed to enjoy sharing their news. It made Lily think of the female friends she had had when she was a Land Girl. Now, with the exception of Vera, there was no one she could call a true friend. There was her mother, of course, but that had become a strained relationship in recent years.

She sat back and stared out of the window, then her heart gave a leap as a familiar police car drove past down the High Street towards the York road. Tom Feather was a fine man and she knew she wanted him. She also knew she could never confide in him completely, but, even so, her emotions stirred at the thought of his strong presence. Her thoughts wandered. Now her dreams were like seeds on the wind, blown to faraway places. All that was left were shadows of a distant past, a secret garden where for a brief time youth had flowered.

Suddenly the bell above the door rang and Vera came in, smart and businesslike as always, and, in the words of Doris, ‘my most elegant customer’.

‘Good morning, Lily,’ she said, sitting down. ‘Have you ordered?’

‘No, I was waiting for you,’ said Lily. ‘Is it just tea? It’s just that I’ve seen some tasty crumpets on the far table,’ she added with a smile.

‘My word, that takes me back,’ said Vera.

‘Really?’

‘Yes, you see Doris is trying to model this place on the famous Bettys Tea Rooms in York. You must try it. It really is a wonderful place. I went with my father back in 1932 as a young girl and you could order a four-course lunch for two shillings. I recall there was a lady dressed just like Doris, in a white apron, and she would bring a three-tier cake stand full of pastries and crumpets. It was such a treat, especially when I finished up with a curd tart.’

‘What a wonderful memory,’ said Lily. ‘Yes, I must go to Bettys.’

Vera looked thoughtful. ‘I didn’t approve at first because on the shop sign there’s no apostrophe in Bettys … but life is never perfect.’

Too true, thought Lily.

Vera picked up the menu and began to read. ‘Perhaps your policeman will take you,’ she added. She had recently purchased some pince-nez spectacles in the style of her fictional hero, Hercule Poirot, and she peered over them knowingly.

‘Perhaps,’ said Lily quietly. ‘Shall we order?’