Ivy did as ordered. Digging her filthy hands into her overall pockets, she found a boiled sweet she’d forgotten about, and blew off the fluff before popping it into her mouth. If this was the end, then she’d have to move quickly to find another job. There were over two hundred girls in this factory alone, with hundreds of others spread all over the estate – and although a lot of them would pack up and go home to London or wherever they’d come from, it would still be a fight to find anything decent.

The late shift poured in and immediately knew something was up as they saw everyone still standing by their benches, and within seconds the volume of their worried questions rose.

‘Attention, please. Attention!’

Silence fell immediately and every face was lifted towards the imposing figure that stood ramrod straight at the top of the iron staircase leading to the factory office. Staff Sergeant Wilcox was a woman who’d always commanded attention with her strong voice and implacable sense of duty – and today was no exception.

‘With our glorious Victory in Europe, the government and the people of Great Britain wish to thank you wholeheartedly for the sterling and tireless work you have given to the cause over the past six long years. The Allied Forces and the people of Britain salute you.’

Ivy rolled her eyes, thinking that all the thanks in the world wouldn’t butter parsnips, let alone help her to save up to get married.

‘As you know,’ continued the Staff Sergeant, ‘our own Special Forces are now involved with our American allies to bring about Victory over Japan, and they will continue to need to be armed and supplied. It is to this end that it has been decided that all future armaments should be supplied by America and Australia as they are better placed for transport to the areas of fighting. Therefore, it is my sad duty to inform you that this factory will be closing tomorrow night.’

There was a murmur of disappointment laced with sharp questions about wages, and whether or not there would be a late shift on Friday night.

‘Tonight will be the last late shift,’ she said above the loud voices. ‘But those on days will be expected to come in tomorrow and work as usual. You will all be paid at the end of your final shift, and there will be a small bonus for each of you as a token of the government’s gratitude.

‘However,’ she continued, cutting through the muttering. ‘Should you decide not to work your last shift, then your wages will be sent on to you without the bonus.’

‘Bloody typical,’ muttered Ivy.

‘I call it ruddy blackmail,’ said the girl next to her in disgust. ‘Why not shut down now and pay us all? What’s the ruddy point of keeping us on for one more shift?’