‘Don’t worry, Daddy has ways and means, leave it to me. I want pink lace guipure. With silk underlining, of course. I shall wear a picture hat like Margaret Lockwood in Wicked Lady. That should knock ’em dead in the aisles! I want it for June but I shall be away in May so we’d better put our skates on.

‘You can come to the house, of course, this is far too poky for a decent fitting. I’ll catch my death stripping off in here. Do you think you’re up to it? Speak now, for God’s sake, or forever hold thy peace. Andrew seems to think you are, always singing your praises: you’re quite the favourite aunt at some Home or other.’

How is Dr Stirling?’ Netta had been relieved to have seen nothing of him since Christmas.

‘Like a bear with a sore head, poor darling. Always off to some damn’ meeting or another. He can be quite a spoilsport with all his boring shoptalk. He gets so involved with it all. I don’t know what he sees in a bunch of whingeing ex-soldiers, sitting over their pints moaning on about the war. Thank God it’s all over, I say. Let’s forget about it and get on with the good times. Don’t you?’

‘It’s not so easy for some, I expect. Bad injuries to live with…’ She was glad Drew was branching out with his work.

‘Rubbish! Life is for living now, not harping on about what you can’t change. It’s making him quite a misery guts but a few whiskies and he lightens up, thank God!’

Netta did not want to make this dress or copy someone else’s creation, however far away, but she needed the order and the prestige of the Mackeever name. It was what she had always planned but now it was happening there was no excitement, only apprehension. The thought of Drew being yoked to this hard heart was not a satisfying one but that was his business. This order would keep them afloat.

Netta smiled sweetly and brought out the diary. It was full of embarrassing gaps that the sharp-eyed Ginnie was quick to notice. ‘Oh, dear, we’re very new at this, aren’t we? You’ll be opening a bottle of champers after my visit, won’t you?’

Netta forced her face into a semblance of a smile.

‘I should really be going to London to have it made up but Daddy has this quaint notion of supporting local tradespeople. Very noble of him, don’t you think? Herbert Batley told him you’re the best in the district and did his little Elsie proud.’ She sniffed at the rail of half-finished garments. ‘Judging by these, I’m sure you’ll come up trumps. Even if it is a bit out of your usual league.’

‘All my bride’s dresses are special.’