Diana’s room was, like her parents’, papered in a flowery pattern, but the carpet and curtains were plain pale blue and the whole atmosphere was light and pretty, rather like Diana herself. Gina went in, closing the door behind her, and sat down at the dressing table. There was little on the surface – Diana must have taken her hairbrush, scent and jewellery to London with her – but Gina opened one of the drawers and found some thin pairs of leather gloves folded very flat, and a couple of pretty silk scarves. She took one out, unfolded it and wrapped it around her neck, looking at herself in the mirror. The scarf smelled of something wonderful, like roses but even rosier. The reflected sheen of the material brightened her face and, despite her old jumper, which was worn through at one of the elbows, and her awful breeches, she felt transformed. She lifted her ponytail and wound it up in a bun, admiring her reflection. She’d once seen Diana with her hair in such a style and she’d looked lovely.

For a moment Gina was tempted to help herself to the scarf, but when would she be able to wear it? Dora would be furious if she saw it and Philip would half kill her. It had been bad enough when she’d had to leave the job at the shop. Unconsciously she eased her shoulder where Philip had belted her. It was the hardest he’d ever hit her and it still felt stiff though it was months ago now. For days afterwards a tense silence had hung over the cottage, Dora and Ellen subdued by the fierceness of the punishment, as well as Gina. She folded up the scarf and put it back in the drawer, then opened another one.

This one had an untidy assortment of things in it: a train ticket dating from Christmastime, a stiff card inviting Diana to a party last February, a couple of blunt pencils, a stray button and, most interesting, a little green leather coin purse. Gina opened it and shook the money out into her hand. It was mainly coppers but there was a florin. She took that and put the rest back.

Briefly, she inspected the bookshelves, which held some hardback novels, several in yellow dust jackets. Gina wasn’t really interested in the books and she turned away, lay down on the big bed and thought about what had happened earlier.