‘No, why should he… but it’s all crumpled in that little box, why couldn’t you let me bring it to the theatre later? What’s the rush?’ The red slipper satin sheath with the sari silk overskirt streaked with gold threads was going to look stunning by candlelight. True to her word Dixie had turned up for a fitting, strangely silent for once, examining the dramatic effect without her usual banter.

She puffed a loop of blue smoke into a ring. ‘I want it to be a surprise for him, that’s all. How’s it going? I’m so glad you got off yer bahoochie and left that dragon’s lair of a dress shop. Is it working out?’

‘Early days but my orders for spring are looking better than I expected. Elsie Batley has passed my name on to her friends. I found a small room, not exactly the Parade but near enough for clients to call in for fittings. Polly will start after Christmas when she’s fifteen. I wish I’d done it sooner. I shall go to Stratharvar, of course. I can’t wait to see Gus’s face…’

‘Promise me you’ll send for the bairn now? Snatch him if you have to but stop shilly-shallying. Waiting to see if things get better never works, believe me.’

‘Is anything wrong with you and Arnie?’ asked Netta seeing the furrow of concern flash over Dixie’s smooth brow.

‘Just the usual. His mammy sticking her nose into everything, making him feel guilty. Nags, nags nags at him all the hours when his heart’s not in the jobbie. Can she see it? There’s none as blind as them as dinna want to see… She’ll learn the hard way. Poor lad’s torn in two pieces. Still, ye can shape a bairn’s coat but not the way he wears it.’

‘Dixie, what’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Wait and see, hen, wait and see, And thanks for the tip. Show us the presents then.’

Netta pulled out a paper bag full of little naked dolls with brassy gold hair in ruffes. ‘Not exactly Rosebuds but imitations for the girls at Oldroyds. I’m going to dress them up as wedding dolls for Lily Liddell and her gang… a job lot from the market hall. I got some face powder and lipstick for Beryl and Polly. I do hope it’s all still on for Oldroyds Home to come backstage after the panto? Thanks for letting them have those seats at the front. The managers are giving them a special tea at the Albany Hotel and then on to your theatre. What a great outing on Christmas Eve!’

‘An’ we can promise you a good show this year. The Principal Boy’s not exactly David Whitfield but Danny Larado can croon the pants off you, I promise. Not a dry eye in the hoose!’