‘Thank you,’ Judy said eagerly. ‘I’ll read it and return it to you.’

He chuckled. ‘Don’t bother, love. I never learned to read proper. I can write me name, and that’s about it. You keep it and good luck to you.’

Judy folded the newspaper and tucked it under her arm. She remembered the churchyard of St Mary Matfelon, where she used to play hide-and-seek with Molly, although at seven years old, Molly had always given herself away by giggling, and it was there that Judy headed. At least it was quiet and peaceful in the graveyard. She sat down on a low wall to read the advertisements in The Times, but there was nothing remotely suitable, so she resumed her walk, gazing in shop windows to see if there was anything for her.

At the end of the afternoon Judy had walked so far that her heels were blistered and sore, and her limbs ached so that each step was torture. She managed to get back to Fieldgate Street, but she had not eaten since the ham roll and coffee that morning, and she was ravenous. Aggie let her in, but as luck would have it Judy almost cannoned into Mrs Wood at the foot of the stairs.

‘Well, you look as if you’ve had a hard day, Miss Begg.’ Mrs Wood did not sound sympathetic. ‘It’s not as easy as you would think, is it?’

‘No, ma’am.’ Judy was not in the mood to argue.

‘Do I take it that you will be having your evening meal in the dining room?’

‘Thank you.’ Judy was tempted to refuse, but she was too tired to go out again, and it had started to rain. ‘I will.’

‘Excellent.’ Mrs Wood beamed at her. ‘I’ll put it on your bill. I expect payment first thing each Saturday morning.’

‘But I’ve already given you a week in advance.’

‘That will be returned to you when you leave this establishment. I have to do that, Miss Begg. You’d be surprised how many people are prepared to walk away without settling their debts.’

Judy nodded. There was no point in protesting and she started up the staircase, holding on to the banister rail.

‘Dinner is at half past six on the dot,’ Mrs Wood called after her. ‘Latecomers do not get served. I have to have rules or people would take advantage of my good nature.’

‘I’ll be on time,’ Judy said wearily as she trudged up the stairs, heading towards the cheerless room that was now her home.

At six thirty on the dot, Judy walked into the dining room. She had kept her bedroom door ajar in order to listen for the booming strikes of the grandfather clock in the hall indicating the passing hours, and the chimes that announced the quarters. The other diners were already seated at a table in the centre of the room, except for two much older women who shared a small table in the window. Judy hesitated, not wanting to take anyone’s place.