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and Mum would worry. Sebastian was there, one of the cast, and he offered to drive me home.’

      ‘Very nice, I’m sure.’

      ‘It was kind, Ernie, wasn’t it?’ Elsie put a plate in front of Sally. ‘Eat up, pet. We didn’t expect you up for breakfast – thought you’d take advantage and have a nice, long lie-in. You can tell Dad and me all about the evening when we get back from church.’ She walked over to the stove and picked up the fat brown teapot. ‘I noticed you caught your evening cloak on a nail or tack; I’ll mend it and give it a good brush today.’

      Sally had no remembrance of having snagged her beautiful cloak but she readily gave her mother permission to mend it. Elsie Brewer, like Daisy and Rose’s mother Flora Petrie, was an expert with a needle and thread.

      ‘I’ll have to hurry, Mum. I want to meet Daisy and Rose before church; they’ll want to hear everything.’

      Sally was anxious not only to tell her friends everything that had happened the previous evening but also to ask for advice as to what to do. The thought of returning to the theatre and Elliott Staines made her feel physically ill.

      ‘You cannot let him spoil your career, Sally. Tell him hands off or your father will be there to see him.’

      ‘I haven’t told Dad, Daisy; that really would be the end of my career.’

      The twins looked at her and then at each other. ‘Sam,’ they said together.

      Sally was aghast. ‘I can’t tell Sam. Besides, where is he?’

      ‘No idea, but you could put a picture of him on your worktable or whatever you have in a theatre. He’d make two of your Elliott. Accept no more invitations – if he’s got the courage to ask you out – and mention Sebastian every so often. You know, a few words like, “You’ll never believe what Sebastian said about …” and mention any big name you can think of. He’ll stay clear, honest he will. He doesn’t want to offend the big boys.’

      Deep inside, Sally hoped that she would see Sebastian again, but he had said nothing about keeping in touch. Meeting a gorgeous actor and being driven home by him was a fairy tale. Once upon a time she had believed in fairy tales but she was now quite grown up.

      Sally kept her friends’ hints in mind when she returned to the theatre. Elliott, suffering from a headache, brought on, he insisted, by winter sun glinting at him through leaves, had remained at home.

      ‘He’s a martyr to it, poor lamb. I’m afraid it makes for more work for you, Sally dear. Will you read Elliott’s lines to Archie?’ the director asked.

      Sally picked up the script. Reading lines was certainly a step up from typing out a new copy. The character being played by Elliott was – surprise, surprise – an ageing roué and Sally wondered if she dared try to change her voice. She could sound a little like a young man; an aged man was harder and her efforts might not be appreciated. Last time she had tried characterisation she had been told firmly, ‘Just read the bloody lines, love.’

      It was the nearest Sally got to real acting that week and was not a bad way to spend an afternoon. Archie Everest, better known to theatregoers as Giles Wentworth, was what was termed ‘a reliable actor’ and he was certainly better than Elliott and a great deal quieter.

      ‘Dad’s at the cinema, pet. Did you have a good day?’ When Sally arrived home she found her mother in the kitchen doing the family ironing.

      Without Elliott’s presence, Sally’s day had been much better than she had expected. ‘Super, Mum, I had to read one of the parts. It was really interesting and Archie Everest is such a good actor. He gave me—’ She stopped in mid-sentence. ‘Oh, you’ve got my cloak. Where was the snag? I certainly don’t remember catching it but the theatre was so crowded.’

      Elsie put down her iron. ‘Never mind the snag. Just guess what I found in the lining?’ She reached up to a shelf above the cooker where several commemorative cups sat and took down one she had bought when the family visited the Empire Exhibition in Glasgow the previous year.

      ‘Look.’ She held out her hand.

      ‘You’re joking, Mum. That must have come from a Christmas cracker.’

      ‘When did you ever see something like that in a cracker, love? I almost ironed over the top of it. There’s a hole in the right pocket of your cloak. I think it slipped through and one of the stones must have caught on the lining. Otherwise it could have ended anywhere, in a gutter, down a drain.’

      Sally was still staring in awe at what appeared to be a gold ring set with three large red stones, each surrounded by tiny white sparkling stones.

      ‘Rubies and diamonds in real gold, Sally.’

      Sally shook her head. ‘They can’t be real, Mum.’

      ‘The lady who gave that cloak to charity could afford rubies and diamonds. We’ll have to find her and give it back, love.’

      Sally sat down at the table. ‘Rubies and diamonds. Gosh. If they’re real it must be worth a fortune.’

      Elsie looked at the tiny diamond in her engagement ring. ‘Daddy saved up for four years for this, Sally. Forty pounds it cost. The insurance man said we’d need to insure it for …’ Elsie stopped as if the enormity of the amount was too shocking. ‘Near two hundred, love,’ she whispered, ‘and that’s for one diamond and there’s twelve in this ring. Put it on. You’ve got ever such lovely hands and I’d like to see it on before we go to the police station.’

      Sally slipped the ring on to her right hand and admired both the ring and her carefully manicured nails. ‘Sets it off nicely, but, Mum, we’ll be quicker going tomorrow to the second-hand shop. I’ll go on my lunch break. They’ll know who brought in the cloak.’

      Ernie would have liked to get rid of the ring straight away. ‘That’s worth a fortune, Sally, and I don’t want it in my house. What kind of woman doesn’t know she’s lost a valuable ring?’

      Neither his wife nor his daughter had the slightest idea how to answer that question.

      ‘I’ll put it in the safe at the cinema. Be better there.’

      ‘But I won’t be able to get it from you and take it to the shop, Dad. No one knows it’s here. It’ll be safe for one night.’

      As usual Sally had her way and next day, carrying her packed lunch, she took the ring back to the shop. Neither Maude nor Fedora was on duty. Sally deliberated about speaking to the sole person there today. She had a relationship of sorts with the other two women; she trusted them. Her mind went back and forth. Of course, this woman was bound to be honest or Fedora would not have hired her. Therefore she should tell her the story of the ring. But she could not help thinking that this situation was almost like something one would see in a film. She would hand over the ring and the woman and the ring would disappear.

      Sally smiled at her own foolishness.

      ‘I bought the most beautiful evening cloak here,’ she started.

      ‘We don’t take back sold items.’

      The words were uttered so forcibly that Sally’s original plan changed immediately. ‘I’m thrilled with the cape. I wanted, if possible, to thank the lady who donated it.’

      ‘We don’t discuss our sponsors but you can be assured that our quality items come from only the finest homes. We have actually dealt with a titled gentleman recently.’ She stopped abruptly as if she realised she was being too talkative.

      ‘Of course, but do thank him and his wife,’ said Sally with a beaming smile as she turned and hurried from the shop. She knew exactly who would know where any local aristocrat lived.

      Petrie’s Groceries and Fine Teas had been dealing with every stratum of Dartford society for as long as Sally had known them. She waited only until her family and, she hoped, the Petrie family had eaten their evening meal before hurrying over to the familiar

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