Ruby has not really left her thoughts since Saturday night. It has been to Ruby that she has turned, if only in her daydreams, to escape her mother’s anger. She had known that cutting her hair would cause a scene and had anticipated her mother’s barbed comments – she had even rehearsed her own responses – but the depth of her parents’ shock had taken Harriet by surprise. Her father had not noticed, of course, when she first sat down to breakfast on Sunday morning, but, caught up in the hailstorm of Isabel’s comments, he, too, became cross. And as Harriet had responded to her mother’s criticisms first with what Gerald described as ‘insolent disregard’, and then with ‘disrespectful petulance’, his anger was exacerbated. Infuriating her mother was part of everyday life – something she appeared to do merely by breathing. Upsetting her father was more serious. He was so often her ally. Cutting her hair short was, according to him, yet another sign that she was growing wild, that she had lost all respect for decency. She had not joined them at church but retired to her room for most of the day.

By Sunday evening, Isabel had declared in pinched tones that perhaps she might grow used to the style after all. The storm abated, the frost began to thaw, although her lips still tightened a little every time she glanced at her daughter’s head. Harriet knew that this shift had only begun at all because Gerald had decreed that it should. Even so, at the first opportunity, she has escaped the disapproving atmosphere of the house.

Ruby would understand. Ruby had told her that she looked alive. She is living, really living, for the first time in her life.

She squeezes her forearm, as if by doing so she might conjure Ruby onto the pavement next to her.

The blue gloves, perhaps. To match her hat. The one that Ruby admired.

‘Are you lifting or just looking?’

Harriet jumps. Ruby is there beside her, as though she really had summoned her, or as if they might have arranged a rendezvous on Saturday night and she has been waiting for Harriet to arrive. Without thinking, Harriet clasps her warmly, as she might an old friend from school. Ruby does not return the embrace, so she shrinks back, full of embarrassment and confusion.

‘I’m so sorry. I was thinking about you, and then suddenly here you were. I need new gloves, and I was just looking, but I was remembering you and the Angel. How did you find me, I wonder? Did the police arrive? Was there a raid?’ The words tumble.

Ruby laughs. ‘Easy, girl, easy. I saw you from across the street. Recognised your coat. The Angel was quiet as the grave when the coppers eventually turned up. Just me and Peter, sharing a cup of tea while the barman washed glasses. They went away.’

‘Thank goodness.’