Winnie Pickles was the girl of Eddie’s dreams and he always sought out opportunities to talk to her. As his mother worked at the local chocolate factory in York, Eddie had decided to give some of the sweets she brought home to Winnie. She was unimpressed with the lazy, not-very-bright Eddie; however, she was happy to succumb to his chocolate charms.

On the far side of the playground ten-year-old Billy Icklethwaite was playing conkers with nine-year-old Norman Fazackerly, while Daphne Cahill was teaching Veronica Poole how to play hopscotch. Veronica was still clutching her doll. It had a dress made from scraps of old material and the child held it close to her. Lily smiled. It was a busy scene and the children were happy in their private world, where friendships were formed, the days were long and everyone thought they would live for ever.

As she watched, Lily noticed the occasional loner. Sitting away from the hubbub of the noisy games and reading a comic was eight-year-old Reggie Bamforth, a studious boy who loved mathematics. He was wearing hand-me-down, scratchy grey flannel shorts and long woollen socks with a ruler pushed down the leg, which, at a moment’s notice, could become a sword, a rifle or a telescope.

Unlike his willowy, fair-haired sisters, Reggie was stocky and strong with a mop of curly black hair. There was talk that his father had been an American airman, but such conversations were never held within earshot of his mother … and definitely not of Mr Bamforth.

Ragley School was fortunate in that it had a kitchen and at lunchtime a meal of Spam fritters and beans followed by jam roly-poly pudding and custard was served. After devouring second helpings, the children ran out on to the playground and the school secretary, Vera Evans, was enjoying a cup of tea in the staff-room with Lily. Vera had just passed her thirtieth birthday and cut a tall, elegant figure. Her official title was ‘clerical assistant’ but Vera preferred ‘school secretary’. She worked three half-days a week, on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Single and sister of Joseph Evans, the local vicar, Vera was content with her life. It revolved around the church, Ragley School and keeping the beautifully furnished vicarage in the grounds of St Mary’s Church, which she shared with her younger brother, looking spick and span. Their parents had retired to the east coast and left them a tidy inheritance, so for Vera it was a relatively comfortable life in times of austerity.

Vera sipped her tea thoughtfully and smiled at her new colleague. ‘How are you settling into Kirkby Steepleton?’

‘Fine, thanks, Vera,’ said Lily. ‘It’s handy being only three miles away and the bus stops right outside the cottage.’

‘William provides an excellent bus service. Always on time. And how is your mother? Florence, isn’t it?’