The Loveless Child

Book 0: Sixteen Streets Trilogy

by Elsie Mason

Genres: Sagas; Women's Fiction; Family Life

Synopsis

England, 1940s.

Minnie has spent most of her life feeling like a plain Jane, watching things happen around her, waiting for something - just something - to once happen to her. When her old best friend, the beautiful and callous Junie, unexpectedly returns to Sixteen Streets, Minnie's not quite sure how to feel. Once inseparable, the two now find themselves at odds. And when Junie strikes up a romance with Minnie's brother Derek, Minnie can't help but feel lonelier than ever...

Junie's looking to start anew - she's running from her mucky, strained life in South Manchester, and the cruel man she shared it with. But when she returns to Sixteen Streets, all her old wounds - from her mother to her friends - resurface. And she has no choice but to face them, and this place she once called home.

In the midst of it all, can the two women find their way back to each other - and themselves - once again ?
Or will Sixteen Streets really break them apart?


Readers can't get enough of Elsie Mason:

'Could not put it down' ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
'A brilliant story from a brilliant author' ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
'I enjoyed every bit of this book' ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
'The end had me in tears' ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
"Stays with you long after you've turned the last page" ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Release date: February 13, 2025

Publisher: Orion

Print pages: 368

Sample

Life was always going on around her, but Minnie Minton never really felt like she was fully a part of it. Life was exciting, wonderful, dizzying. Sometimes, it could be alarming and dangerous, especially here at the heart of the Sixteen Streets, where there was always some kind of drama going on. Still, Minnie Minton felt like she was left out of things.

Take this evening, for example. There was a celebration going on at the Robin Hood public bar at the top of Frederick Street, where all of Minnie’s family and friends lived. There were boys back from the Front on leave and they were being welcomed home for a little while. Why, you could hear the noise from the pub all the way over here. On the other side of the street, where Minnie was working at the fish bar, the heated hullabaloo could still be heard. How she longed to be part of that gathering, singing along to the old songs at the piano, maybe having a dance or a cuddle with someone.

She flushed even to think of that. How silly of her. Who would want to cuddle Minnie Minton? At twenty-seven, she was more homely-looking than ever. She was moon-faced and ever so slightly boss-eyed. This was the less-than-kind way her best friend Junie had once put it. Junie, who was blonde and slim and beautiful, had a sharp way with words. ‘Your face is sort of puddingy, Minnie. That’s what I’d call it. Your eyes are like currants in a big doughy bun.’

She knew that Junie didn’t really set out to hurt her feelings. It was just the way she was. She felt that she could talk any old how to her best friend in all the world and there would never be any hard feelings. How could there be? Minnie adored Junie and always had, ever since the first day the blonde girl had arrived here in the Sixteen Streets.

How long ago was that? By, it was years ago. It was well before the war started, wasn’t it? Junie was only sixteen when she pitched up here – as the long-lost daughter of the landlady of the Robin Hood. Minnie herself had only been seventeen, and she had felt much, much younger beside the self-possessed and sophisticated Junie.

All that time ago. Why, it seemed a whole different world. The world as it was before this damned war. It had been a poor time and they’d all been hard up of course, but at least there was no danger. It was a relatively carefree world. There hadn’t been death raining down from the skies when the Luftwaffe came roaring overhead like demons from hell. People had never had to sit all night sheltering deep underground as the bombs went off. Mind, hiding under the ground in the deep, damp shelters was preferable to the alternative. Everyone in South Shields knew of someone who had been killed or made homeless by the air raids. Everyone Minnie knew had been brushed by the shadow of death.

She shivered and shook herself out of her gloomy thoughts. There was work to do. She still had fish to fry and chips to cut and customers to serve before her night’s work was over. A whole night manning the hot counter at ‘Swetty’ Betty’s fish bar could be exhausting, but Minnie was determined to finish up here and shoot over to the Robin Hood. She wanted to get there in time for last orders, so that she could see what all the fuss was about over there tonight.

Her mother was beaming at her endless queue of customers, wrapping their suppers in reams of greaseproof paper and pages of the Gazette. ‘You’ll let me nip off early for last orders, won’t you, Mam?’ Minnie asked.

Betty Minton scowled at her daughter. ‘Eeeh, Minnie. You’re a hopeless article. What do you want over there with that lot? They don’t want you hanging round them all the time. Them Farleys and the Sturrocks and all of them. They just laugh at you behind your back, you know. You’ll never fit in with that crowd.’

Minnie felt her face grow hot. ‘That’s not true,’ she gasped. She realised she was answering back in front of customers, but she didn’t care. ‘They’re all good friends of mine.’

Her mother tutted. ‘None of you lot are bairns anymore. You’re not going out to play with your pals. Why, they’re all courting and getting married, all those Farley boys and what-have-you. Even that Tom Farley has gone and got himself married, I hear. Some lass from down Norfolk. She’s come up here to live. They’re all just about spoken for, all the lads round here.’ Betty Minton laughed and shook her head so that her fleshy wattles shook. ‘There’s no use hanging round all them lads, Minnie. You’ve not caught yourself one yet, and I doubt that you ever will.’

Minnie frowned. ‘I’m not after catching myself a lad,’ she said in a small voice. ‘But they’re all my friends, all the lads and lasses round here, and even if they’re grown up now, and getting married and settled … why, I still like to keep up with what’s happening with them all. It’s important to me.’

Her mother sighed, wrapping up four fish suppers for portly Mr Chesney, who lived right at the bottom of Frederick Street with his three grown-up daughters. That little, pink-faced man with the ginger tash had his overcoat buttoned right up to the neck against the autumn cold and he looked just as amused by Minnie’s silly chuntering as her mother was. ‘Mr Chesney,’ Swetty Betty appealed to him. ‘You’ve brought up three daughters. Why, you’ve done so very successfully, and as a widower, too. You’ve done a fine job and all three girls are a credit to you. What do you reckon to my one, eh? What do you have to say about this useless article?’ Betty waved dismissively at Minnie, who was dusting silvery fillets in flour and blushing furiously.

But portly Mr Chesney from number one Frederick Street was a kindly parent. He was much kindlier than Betty Minton. ‘Ah, she’s a fine girl, your Minnie. I always thought so, Mrs Minton. She’s worth ten of the more flashy ones round here. You’ll see one day, Mrs Minton. You’ll see what a treasure she is.’

Then he paid for his family’s supper and shuffled out with a swift nod at them both. Betty Minton stared open-mouthed at his departing back, and Minnie allowed herself a small grin of delight at the compliment. She wanted to shout: ‘See, Mother? Not everyone thinks I’m hopeless.’

By the time Minnie was over the road and pushing her way into the crowded saloon bar, it was almost too late to order a drink. She caught the landlady’s eye just before the old ship’s bell was rung to signal the end of another busy night.

The room was stuffy, smoky and dark with the blackout curtains down. It felt rather stifling after the cool night air out on Frederick Street.

‘Minnie, you’ll be wanting a stout?’ landlady Cathy Sturrock asked her.

As the drink was plonked down on the polished wooden bar, Minnie grinned. It was lovely to feel welcomed and at home here, at the heart of their community. Well, so she should feel at home. She had worked here, behind this very bar, for several years, from being nothing but a nipper. She had spent about as much time working at this bar as she had at Swetty Betty’s.

The dark stout with its creamy froth tasted deliciously bitter. It slaked her parched throat after hours of working in the damp steam of her mother’s shop. ‘Eeeh, that’s lovely that,’ she beamed at Cathy. ‘Thank you for waiting for me.’

Cathy nodded and jangled the bell that had hung for decades above the bar. ‘That’s time now, lads and lasses,’ she bellowed. ‘I’ll not be telling you all again.’

The pub started to clear almost at once. At one time, the job had been harder, with Cathy and her loyal barmaids having to scoot the drinkers out into the street. With the war on, however, people were keen to get safely home at night. They didn’t dally so much in the unlit streets.

‘What’s all the fuss about tonight?’ Minnie asked her older friend. She looked at Cathy and for the first time saw that the landlady was looking her age. The fine wrinkles around her eyes had deepened. She had lines down the sides of her mouth, too. How old was she now? Forty-something or so? She was still fine-looking, of course, and glamorous in her off-the-shoulder frock. She always wore deep green or red, to accentuate her long auburn hair. There was no hint of that wonderful colour becoming duller, Minnie thought admiringly. Then, the thought struck her: why, maybe Cathy actually dyed her hair that colour these days? Might she be giving nature a little helping hand? The rumour was that she had taken up with a much younger man, so maybe she felt the need to keep herself as young and fresh as she could …?

‘Oh, it’s just been the whole Farley clan. They’ve all been in, bar Tony, who’s still away. But all the rest of them. Ma Ada and all her brood. She looked pleased as punch to have them all about her: Beryl and that new lass Irene, and her Tom and Sam … and Bob, of course.’ She faltered oddly and looked over Minnie’s shoulder at the departing drinkers as she said Bob’s name. Her pot man, Bob. He had worked in the pub for several years. He was thirty now and Cathy’s junior by quite some years. But if the tales Minnie had heard were true, Bob Farley the pot man was doing more than fixing up the barrels and seeing to Cathy’s beer cellar …

Not that Minnie relished gossip, of course. Idle tittle-tattle wasn’t the kind of thing that should be encouraged. But all the same, Minnie loved it when some juicy titbit came her way.

‘So I’ve missed out on seeing all the Farleys, then?’ Minnie frowned and disappointedly sipped her stout. The Farleys were the most boisterous and popular family round here. There was always a good kerfuffle of drama when they were about, especially when they were gathered in large numbers.

‘They went home about half an hour since,’ said Cathy. ‘But there’s someone here you might like to catch up with. Someone I know would like to see you. The pair of you haven’t seen each other in goodness knows how long.’

Minnie’s eyes lit up and in a flash she guessed the truth. ‘You mean Junie? Are you saying that your Junie is back in town …?’

Junie was indeed back in town. She was supping her gin in the inglenook of the fire, at a table that had been called the Women’s Table ever since Cathy had started working in the pub.

‘She fetched up just this morning, out of the blue,’ Cathy shrugged happily, waving a damp cloth in the direction of her errant daughter. ‘I imagine she’ll be glad to see you again, Minnie. She seems ever so down in the dumps. I’ve tried, but there’s no reaching her. She won’t tell me what the matter is.’

‘Oh …’ Minnie was quivering with alertness and excitement as she took her drink over to greet her friend. Here was the turn-up she had been waiting for. For some reason, she had been expecting something like this all day. Something out of the ordinary. And here it was. Her oldest friend. ‘Junie …?’ she said, feeling almost shy.

The girl turned away from studying the ebbing flames and considered Minnie coolly. As the old friends’ eyes locked, Minnie managed to stop herself from gasping in surprise. Why, there was something different about Junie. What was it, though? Her features were arranged just the same. She was just as bonny as ever. Yet her expression in that moment made Minnie feel like she had a scar or some disfigurement: the alteration was as marked as that. There was something pinched about her. Her nose was sharper, her mouth was pursed in a particular way. Yes, she seemed sharper altogether, as if she could taste something bitter.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ Junie sighed, rolling her eyes. ‘I should have known you’d be over as soon as you heard I was back.’

Minnie didn’t like to hurt her feelings by telling her that she’d had no idea of her return. She knew that, tough as she was, Junie’s feelings could be quite easily hurt. ‘What are you doing back? They said you were down south, down Manchester way. You were doing voluntary service work and being trained, that’s what your mam said. I thought you were ever so brave …’

Junie sipped her drink and gave a sour smile. ‘Yes, that didn’t work out so well. I tried to get trained up for a few things. War work, you know. I thought they could use my skills. I thought I could be of some use.’ She shrugged.

Minnie giggled. ‘Some were putting it about that … well, since you’d gone off so suddenly and quietly, they were even whispering that you were doing hush-hush work. They were saying that you’d become a spy.’

Junie looked cross. ‘Minnie Minton, you’re as bloody gormless as ever, aren’t you? What do they tell you about loose talk, eh? What’s the matter with you, woman?’

Minnie clamped a hand over her mouth and squealed. ‘Eeeh, have I said something wrong? I’m always saying the wrong thing. My mother goes mad with me. She says I’ve never grown up nor changed since I was a bairn.’

At this, Junie smiled a little. ‘Well, I’m glad to hear that, actually. Everything’s changed so much for the worse. The world’s got worse in every way. I’m glad to hear that Minnie Minton is just the same as she ever was.’

This simple statement made Minnie happier than she had been for weeks. She sat down at the Women’s Table with her old friend, just about glowing with pleasure. ‘I’m sorry I said that everyone was saying you were a spy, Junie. You’re right – that’s the kind of information that could be dangerous if it fell into enemy hands.’ Minnie cast suspicious glances to her left and right at the mostly empty bar room and this made Junie laugh out loud.

‘It’s all right. I’m really not a spy. Do you think they would have taken me? I don’t think so,’ she chuckled to herself. ‘I was firefighting for a bit – what do you think of that? I was working in Stockport and South Manchester. When there were raids, I was zooming around dark streets on the back of a truck.’

Minnie was amazed by this. ‘How wonderful. I’d never dare do that.’ She glugged her milk stout. ‘But how come you were down there? All that way down south? Wouldn’t it have been better to be here, among the folk you know?’

‘Folk here?’ Junie sighed. ‘As you’ll remember, they’re not really my people. I don’t belong here like you do, Minnie. You with a mam and a dad and all your lot. Who’ve I got?’

‘You’ve got your mam,’ Minnie pointed out, glancing back at the bar, where Cathy Sturrock was single-handedly cleaning up and preparing to finish for the night. ‘She thinks the world of you.’

‘Aye, I suppose she does,’ said Junie. ‘But that’s a complicated story, as you know. We’ve had our ups and downs.’

‘I do remember,’ Minnie nodded. There had been more than ups and downs! There’d been war on between mother and daughter in the past. How on earth were the two of them still talking? How had Cathy ever forgiven her daughter for some of the stunts she’d pulled in the past? Sometimes, Minnie found it hard to believe that Cathy and Junie still got along at all, given some of the things that had gone on. Eeeh, but Minnie knew it all! All the twists and turns in the women’s relationship. She couldn’t help stopping for a moment to reflect on how much of that story she had been privy to, back in the old days when she and Junie had been in their teens. Junie had told her everything, it seemed – too much, sometimes! Why, they had been inseparable back then. There was nothing happened to Junie that Minnie hadn’t known about straight away. This huge gulf had opened up between them in the past ten years. It was more than the gulf caused by the war.

‘There was a fella, down in Manchester,’ Junie said, lowering her voice. ‘I was involved with someone. That’s why I was living there. I had a whole different life.’

‘Oh,’ said Minnie. ‘What’s he like? Where is he now?’

Junie drained her glass. ‘I’ve no idea. He whistled off some time around Easter. Said he was nipping out for fags and he never came back. It was no loss, really. He was no good. He … he used to thump me. When he didn’t get his own way.’

Minnie gasped and drew closer. ‘Oh, Junie …’

‘We lived in proper squalor. We had this little room upstairs in this old tart’s house. It was a terraced row, just like here, but not so nice. It was dingy and awful. Oh Minnie, I used to cry every night and wonder what I’d done with my life. What was I doing there?’

The larger, slightly older girl inched forward, longing to take hold of her friend and cuddle her. ‘But you should have known that you could come back home any time. You should just have come straight back home. You’d always be welcome at your mam’s, surely.’

As if this was her cue, Cathy Sturrock was suddenly standing beside them with her hands on her hips. ‘Come on, lasses. It’s time I locked up. If you want to carry on gassing, you’ll have to come over to number twenty-one. I’ll get a brew on. Are you coming over, Minnie?’

Minnie Minton had never been known to turn down an invite. She handed her drained glass to the landlady and beamed. ‘I’d love a cup of tea, thanks.’

That night, they sat up very late by the smudgy lamplight, with the blackout curtains drawn tight against the dark. Cathy was worn to a frazzle, she said, after all the day’s excitements. She brewed them a large pot of tea and sat them at the parlour table. ‘I’ll make my excuses and say goodnight,’ she smiled at the girls. ‘And I’ll leave you two to catch up with each other.’

‘Thank you very much, Mrs Sturrock,’ Minnie said, and Cathy hurried off upstairs, the light of the lamp she carried bobbing down the hall as she went.

‘It must be good though, being back here with your mam, after everything,’ Minnie said to Junie.

Junie gasped. ‘Are you kidding? She’s gone crazy.’

‘What? What do you mean?’

‘My mother. Carrying on like she is. At the age she is.’

‘How do you mean, carrying on?’

Junie narrowed her sharp, canny eyes at her friend. ‘I reckon you know exactly what I’m on about, Minnie Minton. You’re not so daft that you don’t keep up with all the gossip.’

Minnie shook her head. ‘Well, obviously, working at the fish shop, you hear all kinds of things. But I pay no heed. Like you say, loose talk and everything. I don’t spread tittle-tattle.’

Junie looked sceptical at this. ‘Oh aye, of course. But I’m betting you that you’ve heard what they’re telling about my bloomin’ mother. I bet you know all about that.’

‘Maybe,’ Minnie said, blushing. ‘Though I’m sure there’s no truth in it.’

‘Oh really?’ Junie burst out. ‘Well, I’m telling you that I caught them. I caught the pair of them – at it. Round here.’

Minnie’s eyes just about shot out of her head. ‘At what? Who …?’

‘My mother and her fancy man. That young bloke. That daft bloke who does the barrels and pots. Bob Farley.’

‘He was round here, was he?’

‘In the morning light,’ Junie nodded. ‘I let myself in with my own key. I thought I’d surprise her. Coming home unannounced. Well, I more than surprised her, the old besom. I just about gave her a heart attack. Her and her pot man.’

‘Junie, I’m sure you must have got it wrong. These things are just malicious rumours. I don’t think anything’s really going on … Come on, he can’t be her fancy man. He’s only a little bit older than what we are …’

Junie hissed at her, ‘She was in her slip. He was in his shirtsleeves. Minnie … they had been at it in the daytime. I could just tell. There was guilt in the air. They were looking guilty as sin.’

Minnie bit her lip. ‘He’s married as well, isn’t he? To Megan. She’s right bonny, too. Megan Farley, who lives over at number thirteen with the rest of the Farleys.’

‘My mother’s a brazen hussy,’ Junie said. ‘I can hardly believe it. Well, just wait till I tell Megan what’s been going on round here. She’s no softy and she’s no fool. She’ll rip my mother’s face off when she hears the truth. There’ll be hell to pay.’

‘Oh, but, Junie, why would you tell Megan? Why would you mix things up and make them worse? This is the kind of thing you used to do. Aren’t you too old to go making mischief now?’

Junie laughed at this. ‘What? Mischief? Is that what you’d call it?’

‘Yes, I would, Junie. You caused a lot of misery and upset back in the day. You know that. And all because you thought your mother deserved it. You thought she deserved to suffer. But here you go again – mixing things up! Why would you do that?’

Junie’s eyes flashed at Minnie’s daring to criticise her. ‘Why would I mix things up?’ She looked at Minnie furiously, as if she thought Minnie had clear forgotten who it was she was talking to. Minnie’s commonsensical kindness was reviving in her that old desire to cause trouble. ‘Because it’s fun, that’s why,’ she said with relish. ‘And, by hell, that mother of mine deserves to suffer, so she does.’

She couldn’t mean it though, could she? Minnie shook her head fervently and blew on her chapped hands to keep them warm. Even Junie couldn’t be so malicious as to want to deliberately stir up trouble? Not for her own mother. Surely not.

Ah, but Junie had always had a vengeful side. Minnie was remembering some of the awful things she’d been responsible for when they were both nothing but lasses. And, going by her demeanour last night, she was nothing if not worse nowadays. The rough life she had lived in recent years had made her even more bitter and resentful.

The next morning, early on, when it was still frosty in the backyards of the darker side of Frederick Street, Minnie was perched on the cold seat of the outside privy. She was thinking it all over.

She couldn’t help liking Junie. The blonde girl could be as bitter and resentful as she wanted to, but Minnie would always like her. More than that. No need to mince words in the privacy of her own thoughts. Minnie loved Junie and she had done since the very first time she’d clapped eyes on her. That first time when Junie had come waltzing into the Robin Hood – all dolled up – for a reunion with her long-lost mammy. Minnie could recall all the effort Cathy had gone to, putting on a special party to welcome her estranged lass to the street. She had been baking savouries and cakes for days to make a delicious spread. And then Minnie could remember how scornful Junie had been. Standing there in her smart travelling costume and clutching her luggage. She had looked like she had come right down in the world and hated the sight of the place she had landed.

Ah, that was back then though, and so much had happened since. So many twists in fortunes and changes of allegiances. Why, back then, Cathy’s horrid old hunchback husband had still been alive. The old man – Noel – who’d bequeathed Cathy both the house and the pub. Minnie hadn’t thought about him for ages. She had banished him out of her head since the day he’d been found dead from a bad fall down the stairs at number twenty-one. She could still summon up the ghostly scent of his acidulous and smoky breath, steaming down the back of her neck as he berated her behind the bar at the Robin Hood. Horrible old man. And yet … Junie had somehow bonded with him, hadn’t she? She had called him ‘Daddy’, even though he was nothing of the sort. Of course, Junie had done this just to drive her poor mother to despair. She did it just to rile her up.

That was the kind of person Junie was. She caused trouble for no reason. She brewed it up out of the air. She made bother where there was no bother before. And now she was back to do it all over again.

Minnie finished up in the privy, glad to pull her warm clothes up again and over her thighs and bum. She felt like her flesh was turning mottled and blue with the cold. As she got up to go, just before she pulled the rusted chain, she realised she could hear someone crying. They were doing it ever so softly, trying to make no noise at all.

‘Hello?’ Junie called.

‘Oh,’ came a woman’s voice. The sobbing stopped and there was a sudden embarrassed pause of silence. ‘S-sorry.’

Minnie frowned, realising that whoever it was must be sat on the lavatory pan on the other side of the wall. They were using the privy at number thirteen. One of the Farley clan were sitting in there, having a quiet cry to themselves. ‘Are you all right?’ Minnie called out.

‘Oh yes, I’m fine,’ said a shaky voice. It was a younger woman’s voice. Minnie tried to work out who it must be. She thought about all of the Farleys, listing them in her head. Ma Ada, Beryl, Megan, Sam, Tom, Tony, Bob … and the new lass from Norfolk. What was she called, again? By, there were hordes of them living in that house. It was no bigger than Minnie’s own home. Mind, in the old days, when all her siblings and the adopted kids had been living at home, the Minton place had been pretty full, too. It had been like a nest of baby mice, she remembered her da’ telling the vicar. Where did all the bloody kids even come from? ‘If you don’t know by now, Mr Minton,’ the priest had chuckled, ‘then I’m not going to explain it to you.’

The sobbing started again, through the whitewashed wall. From being round there at Christmas and other dos, Minnie knew that the Farleys’ outside lav was absolutely spotless. Ma Ada wouldn’t have it any other way. It was very unlike the stinking, mouldy hellhole where Minnie was currently installed. Now that really was something to make you cry. With all the work that needed to be done every day, there never seemed to be enough time to keep their house nicely enough. The Minton house was known for its shabbiness and air of dereliction and dirtiness. They lived with it quite happily, her ma and da. Dirt was a sign of life, her ma always said.

‘Please don’t tell anyone you heard me crying like this,’ said the voice in a funny accent.

Minnie frowned as she listened, and she was touched by the desperate pleading in the voice. ‘Oh, you’re the girl from Norfolk. You’ve only been here a little while. And they’ve got you crying already.’

‘I don’t want any of them to see or to know. I’m not really upset, I’m …’ She was off sobbing again.

‘You’re just lonely and missing your family, and this place is so strange and full of funny people,’ Minnie added, with a flash of understanding.

‘That’s right,’ said the girl. ‘That’s exactly it.’

‘I’m Minnie,’ said Minnie. ‘I live next door. Don’t be upset. You’ll soon find your place here, I’m sure. What’s your name?’

‘Irene,’ said the new girl. ‘Are you the ones who have the fish shop at the top of the street?’

‘That’s us,’ Minnie said proudly. ‘Now, come on. Stop your crying and wipe your face, Irene Farley. Then I’ll see you on the street out front and we can meet each other properly.’

So that’s exactly what they did. Some minutes later, Minnie met the rather pink-faced new girl outside their adjoining houses and they leaned on the front walls outside the bow windows and introduced themselves properly.

‘You’ve married their Tom,’ Minnie gasped, putting it all together. She studied the new girl, with her cocoa brown hair and her slightly crooked teeth which she covered with a hand unconsciously as she spoke. She was no raving beauty – like Junie – but to Minnie she looked nice and kind, and she had lovely, attractive eyes. Her skin was beautiful, too. Soft and pink, like someone brought up on healthy living in the countryside. She was much taller than Minnie, and Minnie guessed that they probably looked rather comical stood side by side, like a music hall comedy act. ‘Oh, you’re lucky to nab Tom.’ Minnie beamed at her new pal. ‘Everyone’s loved Tom for years. He’s such a gentleman. He’s kind of like the dad round at theirs, with his older brother away so much at the Front and their real dad long gone. Tom’s become the one they all look up to. He’s a proper, lovely fella.’

Irene flushed with pleasure and pride. ‘We met in Lincoln. I was working on the land there and he was on the airbase. We met at dances and he always stood out to me. He was more reserved, less showy and noisy, unlike the rest of them. A bit more like me, I suppose. I never liked anyone making a fuss and showing off. We just sort of fell in with each other.’

Minnie sighed. ‘Oh, a proper romance.’

Irene nodded. ‘A daft time to go falling in love, maybe. What with the whole world going to pot. Everything is mad these days, isn’t it?’

Minnie shook her head at this. ‘Oooh, no, I think it’s a lovely time to fall in love. It’s all about hope, isn’t it? Making plans for the future. Because we know th. . .