‘That’s a kind offer, Doris, but I make a point of spending most of the weekend with Daisy now I’m working.’

Doris looked faintly relieved and dug into her handbag again to pull out a small leather-bound diary with a tiny gold pencil attached to it. ‘I could come for afternoon tea on the Sunday,’ she said, the pencil poised above the page. ‘Would four o’clock suit you?’

‘That would be lovely. Now I really must go. See you on the eighteenth.’

Peggy scooped Daisy onto her hip and ran across the road towards the sprawling factory, rather pleased that her snooty sister had been nice to her for a change.

24

Over a week had passed since Ethel and Olive’s arrest, and as Ron made his way back from the Memorial on that Saturday morning, he was looking forward to dropping in on his old pal Stan for a cuppa and a chat before he had to open the pub.

Ron’s spirits were high, for the truth behind Ethel and Olive’s disappearance had not been revealed, thanks to Bert and John White keeping a tight lid on it. Stan was coping very well now the rose-tinted spectacles had finally been removed and he could see what sort of woman Ethel was. He was mortified that he’d been such a fool to marry her when nearly everyone had advised him against the match, and was almost pathetically grateful that Ruby and April were standing by him.

Stan’s reputation and kindness over the years had earned him much sympathy, and he’d been astounded by the number of people who’d made a point of visiting him to offer help when the story got round that Ethel had left him after a most interesting tussle with some smartly dressed woman outside the factory. Ruby had been to visit her mother very briefly, but she’d said little about it, and Ron suspected it hadn’t been an easy meeting.

He tramped down the lane, Harvey galloping ahead of him in pursuit of a bird that had rattled out of the hedgerow to fly past his nose and flutter annoyingly just out of reach. Ron’s mood had been lifted not only by the fact that Danuta was recovering quite rapidly and would soon be able to come home to Beach View, but because he’d had a short note from Rosie in the post the previous afternoon, telling him she would be returning to the Anchor on Monday evening. There was no indication of how she felt, and in what capacity she’d be coming back, or for how long. Two days of not knowing felt like for ever, but if he kept busy they’d hopefully pass quickly.