‘That’s correct. As I think you know, my business is expanding rapidly. I intend to open a millinery department. I have employed a very talented milliner. Her name is Nancy Driscoll, but she is always known as Nan. As I said, she is very good at her job, but she is not a young woman and I have persuaded her that it would be a good idea to take on an apprentice. I think it is a job that would suit you very well. What do you say?’

May glanced at the two women. Lydia Freeman was sitting with her head bent, biting her lips. Mrs Wilkins was white-faced with fury and May could see she was stifling words of disapproval.

‘Yes, please, sir!’ May said. ‘I think I should like that very much.’ She hesitated. ‘Where would I live? Would I still live here?’

He shook his head. ‘No. We shall need your room for whoever takes your place. Nan has a room in her house that you can have. But you must understand one thing. An apprentice cannot expect wages. I shall have to pay Nan for your board and lodging out of the six pounds a year I have been paying you. But since you have been used to earning, it seems hardly fair to expect you to do without altogether, so I will make you an allowance of two pounds per year. But you will be learning a skill, and in a few years’ time you should be able to command a good salary, or even go into business on your own account. So, what do you say?’

May did not have to pause for thought. ‘Yes! Oh, yes, thank you, sir!’

‘Good. You can start tomorrow. You can stay here tonight, until I have made other arrangements. Bring your box to the shop in the morning and I will introduce you to Nan.’ He looked at his wife. ‘I think that is a satisfactory solution to the situation, don’t you, my dear?’

‘Whatever you say, my love,’ she mumbled meekly.

Next morning, packing her few possessions into her box, May came across something she had not thought of since her first days in service – the rag doll which had once belonged to Angel. She held it to her cheek for a moment and fancied that she could still smell that faint, indefinable scent of a baby’s skin. Where was Angel now, she wondered. Living in some fine house, with all the toys she could want, probably. She packed the doll into her box, closed the lid and carried it out into the kitchen, where Mrs Wilkins was washing the breakfast dishes.

‘You’ll be off, then,’ she remarked.

‘Yes. Goodbye, Mrs Wilkins.’

‘Goodbye – and good riddance,’ the cook said. And with that kindly farewell ringing in her ears, May closed the door and climbed the area steps to the road.

‘Service entrance is down the side, miss.’