Polly had her own crowd and went to the local pictures and the Town Hall dances, dressed in offcuts. There was talk of her applying for a bursary to do a college course at night school. She was staying at the Home until she was sixteen. Polly’s gang made Netta feel ancient and washed out with all their crazes and pashes. She felt lonely, cast adrift on a tide of busyness; a silent observer peering through the curtains into other people’s happiness. She watched the cherry blossom in full bloom on the Parade, eager for its petals to be shed and to hurry on Maytime when she would be returning home to make her stand over Gus’s future.

*

Drew Stirling was in the bath when the telephone rang. Ginnie was on her second Martini, stamping her high heels impatiently in his flat in West Park on the outskirts of Leeds. ‘For God’s sake, get your skates on! We’ll be late for the theatre again. Five mins and I’m off without you…’

She lifted the telephone receiver. ‘Dr Stirling’s residence.’

‘Is that you?’ said a man’s voice.

‘Do I sound like him? He’s off duty now. Can I give him a message?’

‘Tell him it’s Arthur Bates. Sorry to trouble him but he said I could call this number anytime.’

‘Not now you can’t! Dr Drew is just going out and he’s late. Give me the number and he’ll call you back later.’

‘Who is it?’ shouted Drew from the bathroom.

‘Just some Arthur chappie, sounds a bit squiffy. Really, Drew, you shouldn’t encourage them…’

Drew shot out of the bath dripping his way towards the phone. ‘Give me that.’ The line was dead.

‘Was it Arthur Bates? Did you get his number?’

‘No, why should I? I told him to call back. I’m not your secretary!’ Ginnie pouted, her hands on her hips.

Drew shook his head, ‘Oh, Ginnie, you should have let me speak to the man. He needs help.’

‘And make us even later than ever? Darling, it’s after six. Even a school doctor has a private life. What’s so important about one drunk?’

‘Nothing you would understand, my silly darling. What would you know about torture and imprisonment, failure and agony?’