She’d slept soundly – amazingly – after yesterday’s upheavals. And now she was onto important business – buttering up Mrs Foster the landlady, getting her firmly onside, because she’d had an idea, and she thought it was a good one.

‘Thank you,’ said Mrs Foster, clearly not used to compliments. She blushed a little, pleased. It turned her face the colour of corned beef and made the poor cow look uglier than ever.

There were only two couples in the little dining room at the front of the house this morning; they were obviously tourists and not in the least interested in Dora, sitting alone at a nearby table.

‘I love your hair colour,’ said Dora to Mrs Foster.

‘Oh? This? I do it myself,’ said the woman, patting her French pleat self-consciously.

You don’t say.

Dora said: ‘Really?’

Mrs Foster’s mouth twisted as she looked at Dora’s ravishing blonde curls. ‘Always thought blondes had more fun, ain’t that what they say? This is mahogany brown. I always do it at home. I’ve got the pack in the cupboard, I’ll show you.’

‘That’s so kind of you.’

‘No trouble. More tea?’

Dora accepted tea while the woman bustled off to the kitchen. By the time she returned, the other diners had gone, out about their day, and Dora was sitting in the dining room alone.

‘Here it is,’ said Mrs Foster, putting a smallish box down

on the table. There was a ravishing brunette on the front cover and the headline: ‘Toni – Innocent Hair Colour’. ‘Haven’t you seen the TV advertisements? The girl riding a horse through the waves?’

Dora shook her head. Aunt Min and Uncle Joe didn’t have a TV, though she guessed they could have afforded one had they wanted. Probably Aunt Min would see such an indulgence as sinful. As for Mum and Dad, a TV? That was the sort of thing a film star would have, someone far above them. They had a poor working-class mindset, and like two of their daughters they would never move beyond that. Dora knew she was different. Not for the first time, she felt like she’d dropped from another planet into her parents’ tiny, meagre, pinch-penny world.

‘We have a TV in the guest lounge through there,’ said Mrs Foster proudly. ‘If you’re staying another night and you want to watch anything.’ She returned her attention to the colourant. ‘There are fourteen shades, and it only takes ten minutes to colour the hair completely. It’s really good.’

Dora nodded enthusiastically, all the while thinking that it wasn’t good, judging by the condition of Mrs Foster’s barnet. And she certainly wasn’t hanging about here for another night. Donny might be checking out hotels and B & Bs right now, for all she knew. She had to move on, but safely. And her gorgeous white-blonde hair – that she’d always been so proud of – made her highly visible, and right now that was the last thing she wanted to be.