It was early in August and Kitty’s pregnancy was beginning to show. Maggie knew that she had no choice but to tell Miss Fox and her employer Ruby about it. It was only the fact that Kitty rarely got dressed nowadays that the two friends had managed to hide the situation for this long.

Cook had retired two weeks ago, and now Maggie and Miss Fox were keeping the house running between them. Many of the ornate gilt mirrors and pictures had disappeared to the pawnshop, along with some of the more expensive knick-knacks, for there was no money whatsoever coming in now. Sadly, the small house that Miss Fox had hoped to rent had been flattened by a Zeppelin bomb, and only the day before she had hinted that she was thinking of going to work in one of the armament factories. Maggie had strongly objected, pointing out that if anyone should go out to work it should be her. She was the youngest, after all, but Miss Fox wouldn’t hear of it. ‘You’ll have your hands full looking after Kitty and Ruby, and seeing to the running of the house,’ she had insisted.

Ruby was now very unwell and only the week before, Miss Fox had called the doctor in to see her. He had given the woman a thorough examination and then gravely informed Miss Fox that he feared that Miss Smith’s liver was failing: the amount of alcohol she had consumed over the years had done its worst and caused irretrievable damage. Miss Fox was devastated. Even so, she was determined to make sure that whatever time Ruby had left would be as comfortable as she could possibly make it. Maggie had been touched at her loyalty. Personally, she didn’t feel that her employer deserved such kindness although she didn’t say as much to Miss Fox. And now here she was about to add to her troubles – but what option did she have?

She found the older woman rolling pastry at the table for an apple and blackberry pie, and taking a seat beside her, Maggie took a deep breath before saying, ‘Foxy, I’m afraid I have to tell you something. It’s about Kitty. You see, she’s—’

‘Having a baby?’

The woman’s words shocked Maggie so much that her mouth gaped. And here she’d been thinking that they’d managed to keep it from her.

‘I guessed even before they set the date for the wedding,’ Miss Fox told her. Then leaning heavily on the table, she sighed, ‘I suppose I should tell Ruby now. She’ll not be best pleased – not that there’s much she can do about it. When is the baby due?’

‘To our reckoning, some time in December.’

‘Very well. Pour a glass of that ginger beer for Ruby, would you, pet, and dig out a couple of arrowroot biscuits to go with it, eh? I’ll have a chat to her when I take it through. No point in putting it off any longer, is there?’