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the mat,’ said Snowy coming right in. She handed Grace an envelope. Grace tore it open and pulled out a Christmas card. ‘It’s from my mother,’ she said, looking inside.

      ‘How is your mother?’ asked Snowy.

      ‘Fine,’ said Grace. ‘Getting older.’ She wiped around the inside of the bath with a damp cloth. A spider scurried away from the cloth but got swept up in it anyway. ‘Don’t mind me,’ Grace went on. ‘Rita wants a bath after tea.’

      Outside in the scullery, the water in the big boiler was heating up nicely. Grace had cleared the kitchen table but she had left two cups and saucers and one of her legendary ‘Cut and Come Again’ cakes in the middle.

      ‘Thanks a lot for doing this, Snowy,’ she said taking the older woman’s coat.

      ‘Gives me something to do,’ said Snowy waving her hand dismissively.

      ‘Have you heard from your Kate yet?’ Grace was pouring a little hot water into the teapot before swirling it around to warm it. She tipped the water into the sink and reached up for the tea caddy.

      Snowy shook her head. ‘I don’t suppose I will until she reaches Adelaide.’

      ‘It’s a long way,’ Grace sympathised.

      Grace knew that her friend struggled with the fact that her daughter was halfway across the world and now that Bonnie was gone, she had some vague idea how Snowy must feel.

      ‘What are you doing for Christmas?’ said Grace passing a cup towards her.

      ‘I asked the King if he could put me up but the miserable old bugger said he was off to Sandringham,’ Snowy shrugged.

      ‘Good,’ said Grace, ‘then you’re coming here.’

      ‘No, no,’ Snowy protested. ‘I couldn’t put you out.’

      ‘Don’t be daft,’ said Grace. ‘There’ll only be Rita and me. I was thinking of inviting one or two of the other neighbours in for a bit of a singsong like we did in the war years.’

      ‘If I come,’ said Snowy, ‘you must allow me to contribute something.’

      ‘There’s no need.’

      ‘I insist.’

      They gave each other a mutual smile of understanding andcarried on sipping their tea. As soon as they’d eaten somecake, Grace brought out the books.

      She had been a meticulous bookkeeper, recording the date and amount of money each saver had given her and then the date on which it was banked. Together they counted it out plus theinterest accrued since it had been in the post office. Each payout was put into a small envelope with the saver’s name on it. It took more than an hour to get everything done properly.

      ‘Aren’t you scared with all this money in the house?’ said Snowy as they finished.

      At that very moment the door opened and a man walked in. He was short and thickset with a boxer’s nose and cauliflower ears. Snowy leapt to her feet with a small cry, her chair scraping on the wooden floor.

      Grace put up her hand in caution. ‘It’s all right,’ she said with a short laugh. ‘You’ve just been saying I need protection. This is my bodyguard, Charlie Hanson.’

      A look of relief flooded Snowy’s face and the man in question smiled, flashing a gold tooth. ‘Evening.’

      ‘I should have told you he was coming,’ Grace went on. She reached for another cup and saucer and poured Charlie some tea. Charlie pulled up a chair, sat down and began rubbing his hands vigorously to get some warmth back into them.

      ‘Charlie used to be a friend of Michael’s,’ Grace said by way of explanation. ‘We’ll be going out with the packets shortly. I’ve asked him to stay for a bite of tea. Would you like some too?’

      Snowy shook her head. ‘I’d better be getting back.’

      ‘Why?’ Grace persisted. ‘You’ve got nothing to go back for.’

      Snowy opened her mouth to say something but Grace was already putting a knife and fork in front of her.

      ‘Oh all right,’ Snowy laughed, ‘but only a little. You’ve already given me a piece of cake.’

      Rita came in shortly after. As soon as they’d finished their meagre portions of shepherd’s pie, Grace got ready to set off on her rounds with the Thrift Club money. Rita was glad her mother was going with Uncle Charlie Hanson, and said so.

      ‘My pleasure,’ said Charlie giving her a wink.

      Charlie had plainly enjoyed himself being in a room full of women. He flattered and teased them, and they played along with him.

      ‘I’d best be on my way,’ said Snowy, fishing in her coat pocket for her torch. ‘See you on Monday, Grace.’

      ‘Take care,’ said Grace.

      ‘I could do with a big strong man like Charlie to look out for me on the way home,’ said Snowy.

      ‘Can’t be in two places at once,’ said Charlie with a hint of regret in his voice.

      As soon as Snowy had gone home, Grace put her coat on and wrapped her scarf around her neck tightly. It was very cold outside. ‘Make sure you lock the door after me,’ she said to Rita. ‘Especially before you get in the bath.’

      ‘Yes, Mum.’

      ‘And mind you don’t scald yourself with that water.’

      ‘Yes, Mum. Stop worrying. I’ll be fine.’

      She waited on the doorstep until she heard Rita turn the key in the lock and then she and Charlie set off. To minimise the possibility of being attacked, the money was in a satchel bag with a strap which went over Grace’s shoulder. The bag itself had a sturdy buckle on the front of it. Grace trusted her neighbours but she was walking around with a large sum of money and in these hard times, it might be difficult for some to resist temptation. A lone woman would be an easy target, which was why she had asked Charlie to come along with her. As it was, she tried to make sure she put the money into the hands of the actual women who had entrusted her with their meagre savings. Sometimes their husbands would lie in wait in the front garden or by the gate and demand the money before she reached the house, but Grace knew if she gave it to them, most of it would disappear down the pub long before their wives saw a penny.

      ‘I have to do what the law says,’ she would tell them. ‘Your wife paid it in and it’s her money.’

      ‘What belongs to the wife belongs to me!’

      ‘Her name is on the book, so I have to pay it to her.’

      Uncle Charlie was a bodybuilder, as broad as he was tall. He wasn’t a relative but the kids called him Uncle when they were young and it had stuck. Grace thought he was a bit lonely so as a woman on her own she had to be very careful not to give him the wrong impression, but there were times, such as now, when he was useful to know. Once Uncle Charlie squared up to a man, any man, there was no argument. Of course, Grace was no fool. She knew as soon as she and Charlie had gone the wife would probably be beaten into submission; but if the woman had any sense, she would manage to squirrel away a fair bit of the money in her apron pocket while the man saw Grace to the door.

      The round was uneventful enough but every time someone said, ‘How’s your Bonnie getting on?’ it cut Grace like a knife. The truth was, she hadn’t a clue. Every day she looked for a letter to no avail. She’d had a few Christmas cards, but nothing from Bonnie. She had bought one herself in case Bonnie wrote, but with no address to send it to, what could she do?

      As she made her way through Station Approach, someone called Charlie’s name.

      Grace turned in time to see him conversing with a man in the shadows. All at once, the man took a swing at him and Charlie retaliated. At the same moment, someone grabbed her from behind and spun her round. The sudden

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