May hung her head but anger was slowly boiling up inside her. What right had this woman to speak to her like that? What had she done that was so wrong? She looked up and met the older woman’s gaze squarely.

‘I’m not the one who is lying. You know quite well that Angel is the baby I cared for in the workhouse. You just don’t want your friends to know where she came from. I loved that little mite. She was left on the doorstep with nothing except that rag doll and it meant the world to her. It was left behind when you … when you took her away, so I kept it as a memento. I didn’t intend any harm to her. I just wanted to give it back to her. I can see now that she has got a wonderful life and a beautiful home and I’m glad for her. I don’t want to spoil anything for her, and if you want to keep it a secret where she came from that’s your business. I will never tell anyone. I’ll swear it if you want me to. I just …’ Her anger was ebbing and being replaced by misery. ‘I just wanted to see that she was happy …’

Tears stopped her voice and she turned an appealing gaze to Mr Freeman. His expression was grave but she saw signs that her words had made an impression. Not so with Mrs McBride. She swung round to face him, her lips drawn into a thin line.

‘I don’t want to hear any more excuses. I have given you my ultimatum. Either this girl goes, or neither I nor any of my family will ever set foot in your shop again. And we have influence in this city. Bear that in mind.’

Mr Freeman looked from her to May and slowly shook his head. ‘If that is your last word … I’m sorry, May. I must give you a week’s notice. You can go.’

May looked from him to Mrs McBride, her vision blurred with tears. She wanted to appeal, to beg for a reprieve, but she saw that it would be useless. She turned away and stumbled blindly out of the room.

Back in the workroom she found Nan setting up for the day’s orders. She took one look at May’s face and put her arms round her.

‘Why, love, whatever’s happened? Tell me.’

In broken sentences May sobbed out the whole story. Nan patted her shoulder and sat her down.

‘Don’t take on so. This isn’t the end of the story. You’re the best little milliner in Liverpool, though I says it as shouldn’t, and Mr Freeman knows that. He won’t want to lose you.’