‘She thinks you broke my heart,’ Harry whispered across the counter.

Connie hoped she hadn’t. Harry didn’t deserve that. They had only been out once, to the pictures – but he’d brought her chocolates as well as a bunch of violets.

She asked for half a pound of cheese. Harry sliced and weighed, laid the cheese on waxed paper and popped in an extra piece. ‘Anything else?’

‘Half a dozen eggs.’

He fetched them, juggling to make her laugh.

The bell jangled and a woman with a small child anchored on her hip came in. She was brandishing a bottle and wanting vinegar from the barrel out the back. Forced to leave her post, Mrs Hachette frowned and disappeared.

Connie took her chance. ‘I need a favour,’ she said in a low voice.

Harry looked at her. ‘What is it?’

The customer set down her toddler.

‘I’ve got jewellery.’

‘Again? You’re not serious.’

‘Please, Harry.’ She put her hand on his arm. The necklace she’d asked him to pawn last time had been to raise money for Johnny’s ticket. Now she had to pay for her own.

He shook his head in exasperation. ‘Why? What’s happened?’

‘Nothing.’

He packed the eggs, frowning. ‘Then why are you pawning your mum’s jewellery? You’ll regret it.’

‘I won’t regret it,’ she said quietly, ‘because I’ll get it back.’

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. ‘It’s not her wedding ring, is it?’

‘No, of course not. That’s at home.’ Safe beneath a floorboard in her room where she’d once kept her childhood treasures.

‘But I don’t understand. If you’re not in trouble, why do you need so much money?’ He eyed her suspiciously. ‘Are you ill?’

‘Do I look ill?’

‘No,’ said Harry, softening as he took the opportunity to admire her. ‘You look lovely.’

Despite herself she smiled. Harry gave her straightforward compliments. Johnny had only ever talked about the line of her neck or the curve of her cheek, as if she were a painting or a sculpture.

Harry wasn’t giving up. ‘Are you going somewhere? Is that what you need the money for?’

She shook her head.

He leaned forward. ‘You are. I can tell. Where are you going?’

It was hard lying to Harry. She lowered her voice. ‘It’s only for a short time and you mustn’t tell.’

‘Is it to do with Johnny?’

She looked away guiltily.

‘You’re going to Paris, aren’t you?’

She bit her lip and nodded.

‘What about your dad? It’s not as if he won’t notice.’

‘He’ll be in Whitby.’

‘You won’t go with him?’

‘He’s better off without me . . . Just him and his sister.’

‘Has he agreed to that?’