Roz gazed in wonder at the beautiful chandeliers which hung from the ceiling. ‘I’ve not been anywhere like this since we left Germany.’ She leaned forward to examine an intricate glass ornament in the shape of a swan and saw the female sales assistant give her a sideways look of disapproval as she served another customer. Roz felt quite annoyed at this unprovoked judgement until she glanced down at her attire. Dungarees, plimsolls with no socks, and a jumper which had been patched and knitted back together so many times, it had lost most of its shape. Feeling a wave of humiliation engulf her, she spoke hastily to Felix. ‘Can we go?’

Felix looked surprised. ‘Don’t you like it here?’

Roz glanced shyly around her. ‘Yes, but,’ she looked pointedly at her clothes, ‘I think I might be a tad underdressed.’

His brow creasing ever further, Felix looked around to see the reason for Roz’s sudden insecurity, and caught the woman serving behind the counter subjecting Roz to a long, disapproving look. ‘I see,’ he said softly.

‘You can’t blame her,’ Roz hissed. ‘She’s right in thinking I don’t belong in here, because I don’t. I haven’t got two pennies to rub together.’

‘It’s a free country,’ said Felix, ‘and whilst you might not have money to spend, I have.’ Sliding his arm out of Roz’s, he took her hand and led her to the restaurant. ‘Let’s have a cuppa and an iced bun. I bet the folk in the restaurant won’t be so snooty.’

Roz didn’t want to go, but neither did she want to disappoint Felix, so she allowed him to take her through. It was odd, because had she been on her own, or with Mabel, she reckoned she would have turned around and walked straight out, but Felix made her feel as though she had as much right to be there as anyone else, and that it didn’t matter how she looked.

They shared a pot of tea, and Felix treated them to an iced bun each. He had been right when he said the women in the restaurant wouldn’t be so snooty, as they’d hardly given Roz a second glance.

‘I bet you did things like this with your parents all the time back in Frankfurt,’ said Felix.

Roz licked the icing from her fingers before replying. ‘Every day after school my mother would take me to Sophia’s, a café on the corner of our street; it sold the most delicious cakes and milkshakes.’ She smiled wistfully. ‘We would buy a loaf of bread, or buns, or whatever Mum needed, and on a Friday, to celebrate the end of another school week, Mum would treat me to a chocolate milkshake and a pastry of my choice.’

‘Do you think you’ll ever go back there? Once it’s all over, I mean?’