But Dora wanted more than that. She was prettier, brighter, funnier than her two sisters. She was the favoured one, the one the gods always smiled on. She deserved more.

And – God alive! – hadn’t he just asked her out on a date?

He drew back his head a little, looked right into her eyes. ‘You’re extremely pretty.’

Dora knew that. She’d been told so, all her life. She didn’t know what to say in reply.

‘So that’s a date then? The Saturday matinee?’ he said.

Dora could only nod. Christ, how was she going to get out of the house without being found out?

She didn’t know.

But she’d think of something.

‘It’s a date. Yes,’ she said.

‘I know where you live. I’ve seen you around. I do a bit of business sometimes with your old man.’

‘The meat,’ said Dora.

‘That’s right.’

‘You’d better not come to the door,’ said Dora.

‘No,’ he said, and smiled.

‘I’ll meet you at the end of the road by the memorial,’ said Dora. It was newish, the memorial, for all the poor souls who hadn’t come back.

‘Yeah,’ he said, and twirled her around for the final bars of the song. He was a fabulous dancer. ‘Let’s do that,’ he said.

William, over by the bar with Donny, watched them dancing, watched Dora beaming up at that crook Dickie Cole like he was God Almighty.

‘Forget her,’ said Donny, handing his brother a half of shandy. ‘She ain’t worth it.’

‘Look at her, fawning over that flash git,’ said William.

‘Come on, Wills, drink up.’

William drank. But he continued to watch them, shaking with humiliation and rage.

3

Dora did fall in love with Rossano Brazzi, just a bit. But really what she was aware of most in the dark hush of the cinema was the closeness of Dickie Cole and the fact that halfway through the film he put his arm around her. Which felt nice. Also what she thought was nice was the way everyone seemed to know him. As they were coming down the steps out of the cinema people kept stopping him to say hello.

‘All right, Dickie?’

‘How’s it going, mate?’

He was a man of importance, the go-to bloke if you wanted anything under the counter, and she was . . . well she supposed she was his girlfriend. They were on a date, after all.

He walked her home, taking her as far as the memorial.

‘See you again?’ he asked when they got there. ‘Next week, same time, right here?’

‘Yes. All right,’ she said, brimming over with happiness. He wanted to see her again!

And then he kissed her right on the lips, and left her there.

Dora practically skipped home, buoyed up with delight. But William Maguire was standing by her gate.

‘I know where you been,’ he said.

‘What?’ Dora’s happy mood evaporated.

He leaned into her and there was something threatening in his expression. ‘And I know who with, too. I seen you in town with that Cole bloke. He’s a fucking criminal. Flogging hooky stuff on the black market. You want to be careful, hanging around with him.’