‘You look pretty perky, Mum,’ said Lil as she flopped down in a chair. ‘June at work?’

Freda pushed the pot and a cup toward her eldest daughter. Briefly she entertained the thought that it would be nice if it was Dora sitting here with her, with her child sprawled out on the knotted rag rug she had spent last winter stitching together. But she squashed that thought as uncharitable. Lil was a good girl, robust, stout; she’d never let you down. Not like quicksilver, glamorous Dora, who’d caused them all grief, broken both her parents’ hearts, then run off.

‘Yeah, June’s out working. Got this just this morning,’ said Freda as Lil poured out the tea. ‘Letter from Dora. Look. She’s given a forwarding address and everything.’

Lil nearly dropped the teapot. ‘What d’you mean, a forwarding address? She’s at Aunt Min’s.’ Dora never bothered with letters. She’d gone up to Min’s place in Yorkshire, and that was that. End of communication. If Mum had written to her, she certainly hadn’t answered.

‘She’s not at your Aunt Min’s any more,’ said Mum. ‘Have a look.’

Lil put the pot aside and took the letter. It read:

Dear Mum

It seems a long time since I left you. I hope you’re well. I am not with Aunt Min now, I left there not long after Dad came up to see me as we did not get on very well together. Probably she has written to you and told you all about it, painting me as the villain and herself as the hero of the hour. She’s horrible. And Uncle Joe is even worse.

Lil looked up from her reading. ‘Aunt Min never said a word about Dora leaving, did she?’

Freda shook her head. On the rug, the baby started to grizzle so she bent and scooped up her grandchild and hugged him.

Lil read on:

I’m happier now that I’ve left there, anyway, and I have a nice little job working in a bar, I’ve put the address at the end of this letter so that you can write back to me there but be careful who you show it to for God’s sake. I do miss you, Mum, and I wish I could come home again. Don’t worry. I know that’s out of the question.

‘She don’t mention the baby. Not once,’ said Freda.

‘She’s right about her coming back here being out of the question,’ said Lil. ‘Dad’d throw a fit. The disgrace!’

‘Yeah, but if she really wanted to . . .’ said Freda, looking at the table.

‘God’s sake,’ said Lil.

‘But you’ve got a spare room. She couldn’t come here, of course. I know that. Your dad wouldn’t like it and there’s all this trouble with that bloke Pargeter, I understand all that. I want her and the baby alive, and if she came back here she’d be as good as dead. I know that, I’m not a fool. But I could visit her at yours.’