• Following a vote of no confidence in James Callaghan’s Labour government, the Conservative Party won the election and Margaret Thatcher became Prime Minister

And, much to Leonie Barratt’s disgust, Veronica Moon is commissioned by the Observer magazine to photograph her.

15 May 1979

15 May 1979

‘HEY, LEE.’ KENNETH IS A head taller than Leonie, wide as well as tall, and when he embraces her she feels, for a moment, small. She doesn’t like it; she shakes him off.

‘Hey. Long time no see.’

He grins and throws himself onto the sofa in the corner of the magazine office where he works. ‘Have a seat,’ he says. ‘You should have said you were coming in, I could have skived. But I’ve got things to do.’

She did wonder about letting him know in advance, but in and out is probably best, ‘I’m going to meet Veronica Moon after this,’ she says.

Ken makes an impressed face. ‘You’re mixing in grand circles.’

Nobody remembers, or cares, that Leonie was the one who got Vee started. ‘Sod off,’ she says. She should get this over with but it’s harder than she thought it would be, now she’s here.

‘What can I do for you? Last time was – a blast. As I remember . . .’ He smiles, just the right side of lechery. It gives Leonie both the warm remembrance of one of the rare nights she actually let a bloke stay over – she learned from that time some idiot trashed Vee’s photos – and the way to start the conversation.

‘That’s why I’m here,’ she says, ‘there were . . . consequences.’

Another nice thing about Ken: you can see exactly what he’s thinking in his face. He goes from puzzlement to surprise to worry to calculation, and skims his gaze over her body – breasts, belly. ‘Lee. I’m sorry. That was months ago, wasn’t it?’

‘Six,’ she says, ‘I didn’t realise until a couple of weeks ago.’

He nods. ‘Sure,’ he says, ‘you wouldn’t.’ Translation: someone your size wouldn’t notice a pregnancy unless you were looking for it. He leans back on the sofa, letting out a long exhale. ‘Christ. I’m sorry.’

‘Hey. It happens.’ Come on, Leonie. Talk. But this is a conversation that she isn’t up for, all of a sudden. She wants to be with Vee. Sisters are always better at this sort of thing.

‘I assumed you were on the Pill.’

‘You assumed wrong.’ Leonie’s never bought into another way of making women be responsible for everything in the world except money, but she doesn’t have the energy to explain that right now.

‘What do you want to do? Is it too late to—’ He makes a sweeping motion with his arms, waist to knee.

‘Abort it? Yeah.’

‘Right.’ He gives her a nervous smile. ‘I’m assuming you don’t want to – like – get together. Get married, or anything?’