In our church, although no one admitted it, there were some families that were more important than others. The Bacons were sort of church royalty and lorded it over other families a bit. Deborah Bacon wore very expensive dresses and had new ones all the time. She was always perfectly clean and tidy – Ruthy said ‘groomed’ – and very sweet to everyone. She was a particular favourite of the old people because she would go and say hello to them before the Memorial Meeting and peck them on the cheek and smile prettily. We Wilsons were almost royalty – sort of like dukes rather than princes – but my family was a poorer branch because Dad wasn’t an Arranging Brother. And because Aunty Maisie said that sometimes Mum lowered the tone.

Bruce Bacon was sitting next to Naomi Stubbs, who was also from a royal family, so Anne would have her work cut out to break them up. But, as she pointed out, she was only twelve and had six years to organise a way to get him to the altar, so she was pretty confident. She said Naomi would look grim in six years’ time, whereas her mother said girls were ‘at the height of their powers’ at eighteen, whatever that meant.

I couldn’t wait to be sixteen and go to the youth group. I didn’t want to go out with boys, but I was mad to go to Mr Randall’s for a milkshake and to go to the car rallies they held on Saturdays and to youth camp without Mum and Dad. Mum said she didn’t know why I was hoping to go because, as far as she was concerned, I could wait until I was baptised before I went anywhere with anyone except the family, and the way I behaved she couldn’t imagine me passing the test for baptism before I was thirty, if ever.

I knew it was a very serious thing to ask to be baptised but I was pretty sure I’d learn how to behave better by the time I went to high school. That would give me plenty of time to prove I was ready for what Anne King called ‘the big dip’ in the huge bath that was under the stage in the rear hall, ready for the next person who asked to be put fully under the water and to be raised new and responsible. My dad was a Baptising Brother, and that meant you could ask him to dip you if you wanted, and I knew it would be my dad who would dunk me. This made it seem a bit less scary, because you had to put on a white robe and walk out in front of everyone and then get into the big bath and the Baptising Brother would say some important words and you had to answer him and then he would lower your head and shoulders in until you were all submerged.

The last baptism I went to was for Graham Walters, who is very tall and skinny, and when the Baptising Brother put his head under, his feet shot up and they struggled a bit to get him right under. Anne and I thought this was very funny but Mum pinched my leg hard and told me I could wait in the car during the next baptism. I had an almighty bruise for ten days. I didn’t mind once it stopped hurting because it was very colourful and I showed quite a few people at school including Maynard, who was fiercely impressed. Anne King said she was in no hurry to be baptised because you couldn’t kiss boys until you were fully married to them and she was keen on kissing quite a few before that. I couldn’t see the interest in this, but Anne was a year older than me and what my Aunty Maisie called ‘a bit forward’.