‘Right then. We’d better start making plans. There’s a deal to work out atween us – money, which goods we should concentrate on, that sort o’ thing.’

‘Hey! You there! I want two rolls of that tweed, and I ain’t got all day!’ The voice of an irate customer set their minds to the task in hand. Later, they could talk about their new partnership, and maybe they’d have a small celebration, just the two of them – a drop o’ the good stuff perhaps, Bridget thought, and a cake from the baker’s across the square.

For the rest of the afternoon she was so excited she could hardly think straight, and once she almost gave a customer change for a shilling instead of a sixpence. ‘We’ll soon go broke if you keep that up,’ Joe chided, but he was just as thrilled. At his time of life it was good to take things a bit easier and to know he had an honest, hard-working lass in charge. And, when all was said and done, it was no more than Bridget deserved.

At three thirty Bridget was waiting at the school gates for Ruthie, hoping against hope that she had enjoyed her first day.

Eventually, a long, orderly line of children marched out into the yard. Straightaway, Bridget spied her daughter. ‘Ruthie!’ she called, and, after seeking permission from Matron, Ruthie ran to her.

‘How did you get on, sweetheart?’

‘It’s not so bad. We had to stand in the hall and say prayers, then we sang hymns. One girl was taken out because she was sick on the floor. Freddy Jackson fell asleep and they carried him out, and afterwards we had to sit in long rows to learn our numbers.’

Bridget smiled. ‘Sounds like we’ve both had quite a day.’

And it wasn’t over yet. Halfway home, Bridget caught the heel of her boot in a grating and it was only Ruthie’s strong arm that stopped her from falling face down on the ground. ‘It’s been one of them unforgettable days,’ Bridget laughed, and as they went into the house on King Street, the sound of their laughter echoed round the walls. They were home at last. It was a good feeling.

After dinner, Bridget showed Ruthie the dress, and Ruthie made her put it on and walk up and down the room. ‘Oh, Mam!’ she breathed. ‘You look like a princess.’

‘I feel like one,’ Bridget admitted. ‘And there’s something else I have to tell you.’ Joe’s offer was high in her thoughts, and she couldn’t wait to tell her daughter.

An odd little smile came to Ruthie’s face. ‘I know what it is,’ she cried excitedly. ‘You’re not getting married after all.’

Bridget was concerned. ‘Don’t you want me to get married?’

Ruthie frowned. ‘Course I do.’

Sitting beside her, Bridget gently questioned her. ‘Just now, when you thought I might not be getting married, I thought you seemed pleased.’

Ruthie shook her head.

‘You do like Bob, don’t you?’