‘That’s because you have pretty blue eyes.’ Bridget thought she was a shy, nervous little thing, and she had taken an instant liking to her. ‘I’ll get you your material,’ she promised. ‘Come back here at half past three and I’ll have it waiting for you.’

The young woman was thrilled. ‘Are you sure? Oh! That would be wonderful. I’ve looked all over the market and I can’t find the colour I want.’

‘I’m due a delivery of material any minute now,’ Bridget informed her. ‘I’ve an idea there’ll be a roll of midnight blue in there somewhere.’

Delighted, the young woman went on her way.

Ruthie appeared from her place at the back of the stall. ‘Have you really got a delivery?’ she asked.

‘Sort of. When Joe brought us in this morning, he was short of all manner of things on the cart.’ According to him, he’d simply forgotten to put them on, but Bridget knew he hadn’t been too well lately, so made no fuss. ‘Bob promised he’d fetch them on his wagon later. I know there were a few half rolls of material, including one of blue. Let’s hope I’m right.’

Ruthie returned to her makeshift parlour at the back of the stall where Bridget had draped towels and such to make it more cosy.

The young woman in question was only minutes from Bridget’s stall when she was spotted by an older man, a short, weasel-faced creature who seemed surprised to see her. He stood a moment, his poky features twitching with excitement. ‘Well, I never. Here I am, minding my own business and thinking about a certain pretty young thing, and she turns up right out of the blue.’

Quickening his steps, he went after her. ‘Fay!’ he called. She didn’t hear. He hurried after her across the cobbles and down towards an alley. ‘Fay!’ he called again. ‘Fay Little!’

She turned, and he ran up to her, gasping and smiling. ‘I thought it was you,’ he said. ‘Where are you off to?’

He was her boss at the orphanage, and knowing what a quick temper he had, Fay was worried that he might become angry with her. ‘It’s my break,’ she explained nervously. ‘I swapped with John so I could come to the market, and anyway I’m owed a whole day off because I worked six days in a row.’

‘Ah! Then you deserve a break,’ he said sweetly. ‘And the minute you get back, you must remind me that I owe you a day off.’

Relieved, she gave a small curtsy. ‘Thank you, sir.’

‘Call me Mr Noosan,’ he purred. ‘I don’t mind us being less formal, out of working hours.’ She looked so deliciously innocent, he had an urge to take her in his arms. ‘Are you on your way back to the orphanage?’

‘Yes, sir… er, Mr Noosan.’ She felt embarrassed. ‘I’ve only been gone about half an hour, and if it’s all right with you I’ll take the other half-hour to return here at three thirty. I have to collect some material.’