She was going to give Christmas a miss this year. What was there to celebrate after all? Netta swallowed her sadness. For two long days the whole world would fall silent and the curtains in Aireview Street would be drawn tight against the darkness. There was a carol service at the parish church if she was desperate, music on the wireless for company, plenty of outwork from Vida to be getting on with. She promised herself a long walk along the river in the afternoon of Boxing Day, with a basket of alterations on the go to keep her mind from yearning for Stratharvar. She wondered if Ray would like his parcel of soft toys sent through the post? The dungarees and leggings, and the siren play suit, would wait for final fitting when she saw him once more. She was not going to make the same mistake again. This time she had made sure her sewing gifts would be acceptable.

*

Her mind was full of sewing plans when Dixie turned up unexpectedly at Netta’s digs one Sunday lunchtime en route to a mysterious assignation. Miss Karenza was requesting a new sequinned costume for her pantomime appearance and Netta was to have the order.

‘I’ve never done anything like this before.’ She shook her head, looking at the sketch in surprise, but Dixie just winked and shrugged her shoulders. ‘I’m sure you’ll do me fine, hen. How’s that handsome fella of yours?’ She smiled at the photograph of mother and son on the mantelpiece. ‘You’re a dark horse and no mistake! I couldn’t believe it when you told me about yer wean. A shotgun wedding, was it, up the aisle with an elastic waist? I bet Peg was charming about that?’

‘Not exactly.’ Time for Netta to spill some of the beans but her audience just roared in response, ‘You divil! Running off to Gretna Green like that. How romantic – and an anvil wedding, what a hoot!’ Dixie was not the type to be shocked by a mismatch of dates and certificates. ‘But how can you bear to leave the wean with that dragon?’

‘I can’t keep him here.’

‘There must be good nurseries for working women. Better than living apart, surely. And if you got piecework at home… ’

‘I haven’t space here to swing a cat. Children aren’t allowed. I’ll move to somewhere bigger as soon as I can.’ How easy it was for Dixie to shrug off her shame as some minor indiscretion. And Netta longed to confide in her how much it really cost her to live two hundred miles from her own baby, but the moment passed. Dixie waltzed off in her fine fur coat to meet Arnie somewhere for tea, leaving behind the other joker she had thrown into the pack of cards when she challenged Netta about a proper sewing career.