Florence avoided saying more, but the unspoken words hung in the air between them like a sip from a poisoned chalice.

There was a long silence.

Finally Lily squeezed her mother’s hand. ‘I understand.’

As Lily walked away into the darkness, Florence recognized the eager anticipation in her daughter’s confident demeanour and sighed. It brought back painful memories.

Later, in The Royal Oak, Tommy Piercy played the piano and the locals sang along. Eventually Lily glanced at her wristwatch. ‘It’s almost half past ten, Tom. I ought to be getting home. Thanks for the drink.’

Tom sighed. He had enjoyed the last hour with this beautiful woman and he didn’t want to say goodnight just yet. He took a deep breath. ‘My mother is in Scarborough seeing in the New Year with her brother and his wife. You could come back with me if you like – just a nightcap and see in the New Year.’

‘No, I need to get back,’ said Lily guardedly.

‘There’s a spare room in the cottage,’ he added hastily – perhaps too hastily.

For a moment Lily stood deep in thought and her eyes were soft with sorrow. A night with her handsome policeman was an inviting proposition.

‘What is it, Lily?’ Tom was concerned.

She sighed. ‘Just thinking about this and that. Nothing to worry about, Tom, but thank you for asking.’

When they finally got back to Laurel Cottage they kissed briefly before Lily hurried into the house. The church clock was chiming midnight as Tom arrived back at his empty house in silence, dreaming of what might have been.

Meanwhile, in her tiny room above the Hardware Emporium, Nora stared at her Alpine corset hanging behind the door. It was her badge of office and a mark of her new status in the theatrical world.

In the front parlour of the Tea Rooms, Doris was sipping tea as the fire burned low. She had unzipped her new body garment and was comfortable in her favourite armchair in the flickering light. She thought back on the day and recognized this important moment in her life, when her Alpine corset had been passed on to the next in line. In a few years she would retire and the mantle of responsibility would go to Nora Pratt, her protégée, and the Alpine leather corset would have a new lease of life.

The show must go on, thought Doris as the church bells chimed out twelve times.

A new year had dawned and 1953 stretched out before her.

Chapter Nine

A Tale of Two Televisions