Easing herself from the lamppost, Ruby turns and pushes on the door of an unprepossessing jeweller’s shop. The sign announces that it is closed, but she knows that the door will be unlocked.

Raymond Calladine is the owner of this particular emporium. To most of the world, he is a respectable jeweller, but to those in the know, he is a fence, just like Solly. He takes and sells on some of Solly’s better goods, after they’ve been lying in Solly’s secret hideaways for a while and are no longer missed by their original owners. Ruby has known Ray for years. Solly first sent her to him when she was little more than a child – before the war began. She had carried a small bag over her shoulder, innocent enough to anyone who saw her, even though she knew, aged twelve, that the bag was full of stolen watches.

Ray looks up and smiles when he sees her arrive. He has a face like a rat: small eyes and protruding teeth.

‘Good morning, Ruby.’ He greets her as an old friend. ‘Come in, come in out of the chill.’

She edges inside and her body tenses instinctively as he bustles about, shutting and locking the door behind her, lowering the blinds, making jokes about the weather.

The deal will happen as quickly as she can manage it and then she’ll escape back to the street and lose herself in a crowd. She lifts her handbag onto the counter, pulls off her gloves and begins to lay out what she’s brought.

‘How’s my friend Solly today?’ Ray stands so close to her that she can hear him breathing.

‘Grumbling about everything, you know how he is. Prices rising, people unwilling to pay, too many thieves about, not enough decent stuff to sell. Same as always.’ She drapes a gold bracelet next to a fine lady’s wristwatch, aligning them carefully.

‘And how about you, little Ruby? How are you?’

‘You know me, Ray’ she says, edging away. ‘Always looking out for the sparkles.’

‘This is a nice piece, isn’t it?’ He runs the nail of his forefinger down the bracelet. The nail is a little too long and lightly stained with tobacco at the tip. It needs clipping. ‘The wristwatch, too. I know just the right sort of buyer. Knew it as soon as I saw it over at Solly’s place.’

She can smell the scent of the pomade he wears on his hair. It is oily and sweet, and it sticks in the back of her throat, making her want to gag.

‘Good. Solly’s written his prices down for you. He says there’s no arguing or haggling. I’m to leave and flog them elsewhere if you won’t pay.’