‘You two were stood there blethering ninety to the dozen like fishwives. You didna notice me. That’ll teach old man Kerr to hang about! Now he’ll be late for the rest of his rounds.’ He stared down at Bump. ‘Isn’t it about time you dropped that bairn of yours or is it just wind in yer belly? If you were one of my kine, I’d be dosing you up.’

His daughter ignored the gibe and flipped through the thin pages, poring over the photographs with delight. ‘Oh, look! Claire McArdell. Three pages of her designs. Isn’t this wonderful?’ wafting a photograph of a film star sitting casually at her mending: Miss Lauren Bacall darning her socks, relaxing in a one-piece linen lounger by Claire McArdell, New York’s best young designer.

‘Don’t you think the line is very unusual? So sophisticated yet practical too. Look, Peg.’

She peered down and sniffed. ‘It looks more like a Chinese coolie outfit to me.

‘Look at the belt. Oh, I do wish it was in colour and I could see the shade contrasts. That mandarin collar is so right, and the neat buttons… I think they’d be brass to give a military effect.’

‘Stop yer running commentary. You’re not on the wireless. I’m trying to have my dinner, lass.’

‘Look at the sleeves, Peg, so full…’

‘Seems a waste of good cloth to me and such plain material. I like a bold pattern, a bit of interest. They look just like plain overalls.’

‘Yes, McArdell likes working materials: for leisure wear: cottons, cowboy denim, jersey. Isn’t it just tickety-boo!’

‘Where do you get such words? Tickety-boo indeed… all steamed up aboot a bit of cloth! Who’s got time for leisure? This is no Hollywood. Women in trousers is for the factory floor and nowhere else. A backside isn’t fit for britches, not on a woman. It’s no decent,’ Angus contributed, blowing the cold breeze of reality on her chatter as usual.

‘Why don’t you save it for when you’re in bed with the bairn? It’ll be something to look forward to after all the nappy pails and night feeds.’ Peg was trying to be pleasant.

‘I’ll be breast feeding.’ Netta smiled, knowing how Peg would react.

‘Not in ma house you won’t! That’s for peasants and Papes who ken nae better, not well brought up mothers,’ snapped Peg, her cheeks flushing at the very thought of such barbarism. Angus bent his head low to keep out of the crossfire. For once Netta would let this pour right over her, too thrilled by the magazine to hit back.

‘You’re right, I’ll have to be strong and put it away. Oh, I wish the Bump would shift itself. If nothing happens the day, I’m off to see Dr Begg and Leithy to get them to do something.’