Lily considered asking John for some new reading books, but remembered his manner earlier and decided to wait until another day. It was time for morning milk and as usual the children enjoyed their daily third of a pint. The fact that it was often frozen in winter, with coal tits pecking at the foil tops, and curdled in summer mattered little. In an age of austerity, most of these children were grateful for any sustenance that came their way.

In the distance Lily could hear the church bells making a melancholy, muted sound. It was the funeral of seventy-five-year-old George Icklethwaite, who had served in the army in the First World War and lived the rest of his life in the village. The bellringers had muffled their bells and Ragley folk stopped what they were doing to count out the number of times the bells tolled, one for each year of George’s life.

It was well known that the ‘killing cold’, as it was called by the locals, took away the sick and the weak, and Lily looked thoughtfully at the children in her care, who seemed unconcerned about the freezing weather and couldn’t wait to run in the snow and slide on the ice.

Across the road Ruby Smith walked into the General Stores holding an old handkerchief over her mouth. She was coughing.

‘Good morning, Miss Golightly,’ she mumbled. ‘Just some porridge oats, please.’ She knew her son needed a hot and filling breakfast on this bitterly cold day. There was no heating in the house and ice had formed on the inside of the windows. Ronnie was still in bed, snoring loudly. He had spent another evening supping Tetley’s bitter in The Royal Oak and it was time to sleep it off.

Prudence put a two-pound box of Scott’s Porage Oats on the counter.

Ruby, now heavily pregnant, counted the coins carefully from her purse and coughed again.

Prudence looked concerned. ‘Whatever is the matter, Ruby?’

‘Ah’ve gorra tickly cough an’ a sore throat an’ ah’m worried ah’ll pass it on to our Andy.’

Prudence pointed to the sign on the wall that read ‘VICTORY V gums and lozenges for cold journeys’. Then she opened a packet from behind the counter. ‘Have one of these,’ she said, ‘and take a few with you.’ She scattered some of the small brown tablets into Ruby’s open palm. ‘These will help you through the morning,’ she added with a gentle smile.

‘Thank you kindly, Miss Golightly,’ said Ruby, popping one into her mouth. The bell above the door rang forlornly as she tightened her headscarf and hurried out.

Oh dear, thought Prudence, whatever will become of that dear young girl?

It was lunchtime and Lily wrinkled her nose at the nauseating smell of boiled cabbage that permeated every corridor and her classroom. She handed in her late-dinner-money tin to Vera in the school office.