She reached out and put her arms around them. ‘Come here,’ she whispered, brimming with love for her two best friends. And they hugged each other, silently swaying back and forth, as the midnight chimes of Big Ben drifted upstairs from Huw Kelly’s television set.

Epilogue

1976

Forty-two years earlier

The one thing Miss Taylor loved about playtime duty was being able to smoke in the fresh air. Made no sense, she knew that. But smoking in the staff room was a bit overbearing, especially with Alan Jones and his awful pipe. Of the fourteen teaching staff at Coed Celyn Primary, eight of them were smokers. And it got a bit much at break-time, all crammed into the chair-lined room next to the Headmaster’s office, puffing away on Bensons and drinking Mellow Bird’s.

Admittedly, standing in the playground and putting up with the constant barrage of ‘Miss! Miss! So-and-so did such-and-such!’ from 250 junior school pupils was a high price to pay, as was having to repeatedly shout, ‘Come away from the fence!’ But at least she got to enjoy her cigarette and have five minutes to herself.

She should really stretch her legs a bit before the bell, do a quick circuit of the playground and surrounding grass areas, yellowing now after weeks of dry weather. Twenty-seven days till the end of term and she’d be off to Devon with Jerry. Ooh, she must get some new bathers. The elastic had withered in her red ones.

She headed for the top end of the playing field. In amongst the saplings that stood like sentinels around the perimeter fence, she could see three sets of Ladybird-socked feet peeping out from under three skirts – one denim, one broderie anglaise and one green corduroy – all facing inwards in a tight huddle. She couldn’t work out who the feet belonged to at first, the heads of the huddlers hidden under a red pac-a-mac, draped over them like a magician’s cape. But as she approached, she could hear the confident voice of eight-year-old Lana Lloyd. ‘So you have to say after me …’

Miss Taylor smiled to herself. If that was Lana, then the other two must be Judith Harris and Catrin Kelly – the sweet little trio who’d been inseparable since their very first day at Coed Celyn three years previously. She’d taught them herself last year.

‘I swear on this Curly Wurly wrapper …’

A muffled giggling from the other two stopped Lana in her stride.

‘You have to take it seriously or it won’t work!’

‘Sorry, start again,’ said Judith.

‘And hold the wrapper straight,’ added Catrin.

‘Right, say after me: I swear on this Curly Wurly wrapper …’

The two voices dutifully repeated the words. ‘I swear on this Curly Wurly wrapper …’

‘… that I will always be a royal friend and true.’

‘It’s LOYAL not ROYAL, you narna!’ said Judith. ‘With an “L”!’

‘Is it?’ asked Lana, confused.