‘George been spoiling you, has he?’ Cissie asked the next afternoon when Peggy, Thomas and Daisy arrived home from school, each clutching a bag of aniseed balls. It was usually George who collected them, apart from the rare days when Kathy wasn’t working.

‘No, it weren’t me,’ George said defensively as he hung his coat on a nail in the back of the door. ‘I know Cook don’t like ’em to have sweets afore their dinner.’

‘So where did you get them then?’ Cissie queried as Peggy skipped off to find Edith. Daisy and Thomas shrugged.

‘From the nice man who stands outside the school fence,’ Daisy told her innocently.

Cissie scowled. ‘What nice man? And did he give any of the other kids sweets?’

‘No,’ Thomas said, his cheek bulging with the treats. ‘He just likes us.’

‘Hm, well just mind what I said about talking to strangers,’ Cissie warned as she placed a glass of milk each on the table for them. ‘And make sure as Cook doesn’t see you eatin’ ’em afore your meals an’ all, else she’ll have your guts for garters.’

The children giggled as they greedily slurped their milk and, for now, the incident was forgotten.

The next day, George drove the car into town to do the shopping. Because petrol was now so hard to come by, he hardly used it anymore, but the two old nags were being shod, and the car needed a little run now and then to keep the engine in good condition. Unfortunately, on the way home he had a puncture in one of the tyres and he’d had to abandon the car and walk to the nearest garage to get it repaired, which meant that by the time it was fixed he was running late for picking the children up from school.

‘The shoppin’s in the car,’ he told Cissie breathlessly when he finally arrived home. ‘I’ll have to leave you to unload it yourself else I’ll be late for pickin’ the children up. I had a puncture on the way home an’ it’s put me a bit behind.’ And with that he was off like a shot from a gun.