‘Excuse me, young lady, do you have the correct time?’ An elderly man leaving the shop makes enquiry of Harriet, who, feeling a little abandoned by Ruby, is scanning the headlines of the various newspapers on sale.

She pushes back her coat sleeve and consults her wristwatch. ‘It’s a quarter to midday.’

He makes some bland comment about the morning, the weather and the need to return home for lunch. Harriet responds politely, aware that Ruby has finished her survey of the magazines and is waiting to leave. The man raises his hat and thanks her before shuffling away.

‘What a dear sort,’ Harriet says.

‘He was,’ Ruby loops an arm through Harriet’s again and pulls her away from the shop, walking smartly. ‘Most agreeable.’

Something about her chuckle makes Harriet uneasy.

‘No, keep walking,’ Ruby says hurriedly, clamping her arm under hers and dragging her on. ‘Don’t slow down, for God’s sake. Not until we reach the turning.’

‘Ruby, what did you do? Did you pick his pocket?’ Harriet stops still and wrenches her arm free.

‘Just keep walking.’ Ruby strides on ahead.

Harriet jogs to catch her. ‘Ruby!’

They turn the corner and Harriet takes her elbow, horror on her face. ‘What did you take? How dare you! He was just a sweet old man. A decent man.’

‘How do you know he’s decent? Because he had a plummy voice and a smart overcoat? Don’t be fooled by that.’

‘I can’t believe you did that. What did you take from him?’

‘He had a couple of notes in his pocket.’

‘Stealing gloves from a shop is one thing but taking money from an elderly man in the street is quite another matter. And you did this while I was telling him the time – why?’ Her voice cracks.

When the elderly gentleman discovers that he is missing some money, he will believe Harriet to be guilty – that she deliberately distracted him while Ruby picked his pocket. She is appalled.

Ruby pulls the notes from her coat – along with the magazine. ‘Why not? Do you want to share?’

‘No, I do not.’ Harriet recoils, horrified by the thought. ‘How could you do such a thing? The poor man.’

‘But he’s not poor, is he? Not if he wanders about with this much money in his pocket, without worrying about keeping it safe. If he can afford to be so casual, then he’s not poor. And he’s fair game.’

Harriet has no response. Instead, she gazes around her, only now wondering where she is. They are at the river. Waterloo Bridge.

‘It’s alright for you,’ Ruby says. ‘With your wealthy father to look out for you, and your rich fiancé who buys you diamonds. I don’t have anyone. So don’t stand there judging me for taking an opportunity when it offers itself.’

‘I’m not judging you – truly, I’m not.’ She is chastened by the accusation.