Spencer nodded, understanding that Ma was not exactly warning him off, but letting him know that our entertaining him like this was unorthodox and she was doing him a favour; and mibbie if she let him do it again, she’d be doing him another favour. Ma collected favours like a beachcomber does treasures. I knew he wouldn’t care, though. He was quite taken with me. Why else would he have come all the way back?

Ma asked nothing about what was in those parcels and if Spencer would get me and him into trouble with it all.

Da said little but sat in quiet thought. He was not used to there being another man at the table. I liked the fact that Spencer made Da quiet. It made me feel safe. Da did not make his usual complaints that the turnips were stringy or the beef gristly. Mibbie he was wondering if this turn of events might be favourable and what Spencer’s connections were, but he didn’t ask.

Joan said precisely nothing. She chewed her beef and stared at her plate and would not laugh at Spencer’s jokes, and she left the table as soon as she could. I felt guilty. But it wasn’t my fault he liked me.

When it was time for him to go, I stood up and walked him to the door. When it was just the two of us – me on the doorstep, and Spencer on the street – he looked serious and reached for my hand.

‘It was important for me to get to know your folks, Maggie. I hope I did all right.’

‘Shall we see each other again soon?’ I could not help but blurt it out.

‘As soon as I am back,’ he promised. He squeezed my hand and leaned into me. Our bodies met. He kissed me, on the lips this time, and it was the most magical experience I’d ever had.

Joan went sourer still in the days that followed.

Spencer was off, but he had left something behind. Parcels, for there were always parcels, but this time he also left an atmosphere. Joan withdrew from me as much as she could, with us all living under the same roof. She became diligent, doing chores without being asked, and would take herself off for walks and to choir practice and come back looking miserable.

Ma and Da saw how Joan was behaving, for how could they not? Ma took me to one side as we washed the pots together one night.

‘It’s time you were married,’ she said in a low voice, for the other two were only a few feet away. ‘Don’t think the thought hasn’t crossed my mind. But is there no local lad who’s ever caught your eye?’