Peggy glanced back at the housewives going about their shopping and realised that everyone and everything looked shabby and down at heel beneath the grey clouds that now blotted out the sun. It was a depressing sight, and she yearned for things to go back to the way they once were.

She crossed the road and headed down the alleyway which ran between the backs of the houses and petered out into a track which meandered up the steep hill to the east of the town and along the clifftops. Reaching her gate, she saw that someone had taken in her washing, which was a relief, for it looked as if it might rain again at any minute.

Pushing through the back door, she shut it behind her and gently unfastened the straps to lift Daisy out of the pushchair. She was heavy in her arms, draped over her shoulder and still half-asleep. ‘Come on, love,’ Peggy murmured. ‘Let’s get upstairs and see who’s home.’

The wireless was on, and Queenie was perched on her usual shelf keeping an eye on everyone as Cordelia washed glasses in the sink, Sarah did the ironing and Rita helped Fran set the table and sort out the seating arrangements. Peggy gave a sigh of pleasure. It was lovely to be in her kitchen again after the icy temperature of the warehouse and the cold walk back, for a fire glowed in the range, and the dim light from the low wattage bulb cast enough shadows to hide the faded linoleum, peeling paint and shabby furniture.

‘Oh, Sarah, how kind you are,’ she sighed. ‘But you shouldn’t be doing ironing on your day off.’

Sarah smiled back at her as she hung one of Ron’s shirts over the back of a chair. ‘Neither should you,’ she replied, ‘and actually, I quite enjoy doing it. It smells so lovely after being out in the fresh air all day.’

Cordelia turned from the sink. ‘We were wondering where you’d got to,’ she said.

‘I stopped off to chat with Ethel.’ Peggy sat down with Daisy on her lap to divest her of her coat, mittens and woolly hat. ‘She was keen to find out if I’d heard the latest Cliffehaven gossip, which has evidently spread like wildfire. I suppose you’ve all heard what happened at the Crown this lunchtime too?’

‘Aye, we have. To be sure Ron will be in trouble,’ said Fran, her green eyes sparkling with mischief beneath the crisp white nurse’s cap. ‘I feel quite sorry for him having to face Rosie after today.’

‘I wouldn’t feel sorry for Ron,’ Cordelia said briskly. ‘He’s a scallywag, and Rosie deserves better.’