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      ‘Am I not master in my own house now?’

      ‘This is about Janet and her life, not yours.’

      ‘I’m her father,’ Bert thundered. ‘I say what goes in this family.’

      His mellowness and good humour, restored at the pub, had left him. His wife and daughter ganging up on him. He wouldn’t stand for it.

      ‘How long has this been going on?’ he demanded.

      ‘How long has what been going on?’

      ‘This conniving between you.’

      ‘Oh, Bert, don’t be stupid.’

      ‘Oh, it’s stupid I am now?’

      ‘Look, Bert, I’m sick of this,’ Betty said. On the stairs Janet sat hugging her knees, rocking slightly as sobs shook her body. Her parents didn’t hear her; they were too busy shouting at one another.

      ‘We’re talking about giving our daughter a choice in her life,’ Betty cried. ‘Why are you going on as if it’s a bloody crime?’

      ‘I’m not.’

      ‘You bloody well are. Duncan had the choice, why not Janet?’

      ‘Duncan was different.’

      ‘Why, because he made a choice you approved of?’ Betty asked. ‘Or is it more than that?’

      ‘And what do you mean by that remark?’

      ‘Are you cross because your daughter has the chance Duncan didn’t have the ability to take up, even if he’d wanted to? Do you think daughters are of no account and anything will do to occupy them until they marry and become a slave to some man?’

      There was some truth in Betty’s accusations, and Bert was quite ashamed of his feelings put into words like that, but he wasn’t going to admit it.

      ‘That isn’t what I think,’ he said.

      ‘Isn’t it, Bert Travers?’ Betty said quietly, and it was Bert who looked away first.

      ‘Let her try, Bert,’ Betty pleaded. ‘The first exam is in November. Miss Wentworth says that even with her being bright she’ll need extra coaching. If she doesn’t get in, that will be the end of it. We’ll know by Christmas.’

      Bert still didn’t speak, but Betty knew him well enough to know he was wavering. She went on while he was in this muddle of indecision. ‘The factory is probably the right place for our Duncan, he’ll likely be happier there than at school at any rate, but our Janet is not Duncan. You’ll have to give her this opportunity to do something better, or … or she might hold it against us for the rest of her life.’

      Bert looked at his wife, but he wasn’t seeing her. He was seeing his daughter before he’d left that evening, resenting his intrusion into her life. Was that because she imagined him to be the stumbling block in her wish to go to the grammar school? And if he stood alongside his principles and refused to let her take the exam, would she get over it eventually, or would she always hate him?

      He wouldn’t, couldn’t take that chance. He sighed. ‘All right,’ he said slowly, as if the words were being pulled out of him. ‘Let her take the bloody exam and we’ll see how clever she is.’

      Janet allowed a long, shuddering sigh to escape from her body. She felt as if she’d been holding her breath for hours. No one heard her creep back to bed, although her limbs were so stiff with cold she stumbled a few times before she reached her bedroom.

      No one heard because Betty and Bert were entwined with one another. ‘You won’t be sorry, Bert,’ Betty said. ‘You’ll see.’

      ‘You could reward me for being the understanding sort tonight if you’d have a mind,’ Bert said with an ogling leer.

      And Betty smiled as she said, ‘Maybe.’

      After all, she said to herself later that night, it’s a bit bloody late to make a stand now.

       THREE

      After that, it was fairly easy. Bert had given permission for Janet to take the exam, and he accepted the fact that twice a week, Wednesday evening and Saturday afternoon, Janet would go to Miss Wentworth’s home for special tuition. The rest of the week, she would work at home.

      On the day of the first exam, a hollow-eyed Janet, who had slept very little, was surprised to find her father in the kitchen when she came downstairs. It was Saturday, and Bert hadn’t to work. There was little enough overtime these days, and he usually enjoyed a lie-in at the weekend, but there he was, large as life.

      He made no mention of the exam, no comment at all that it was a special day, but Janet was glad he was there to wish her all the best.

      ‘Now, what would you like for breakfast this fine morning, Miss Janet?’ he asked.

      ‘Oh, nothing,’ Janet said. ‘I … I couldn’t eat anything, Dad.’

      ‘Couldn’t eat anything when I’ve got up specially to cook it?’

      Betty had followed Janet downstairs. The two stared at him in astonishment. ‘You!’ they both said together.

      ‘You had to do your bit in the forces, you know,’ Bert said. ‘I’m a dab hand with bacon and eggs.’

      ‘You never said,’ Betty said accusingly.

      ‘You never asked,’ Bert replied. Betty and Janet laughed, and Janet wondered why it couldn’t always be like this. Suddenly, the sick feeling in her stomach eased and the lump in her throat disappeared, and she smiled at her father, who was making such an effort.

      ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I’d love bacon and eggs.’

      It was a great breakfast. Every subject was discussed except the first part of the eleven-plus that Janet would sit that morning. Duncan had been primed by his mother, and the twins, of course, knew nothing anyway.

      At last it was time to go, and Janet went up for her coat. ‘Keep an eye on her, Bet,’ Bert said. ‘She looks as if she hasn’t slept a wink.’

      ‘She probably hasn’t. I’ve tossed and turned all night myself.’

      ‘Well, at least she has something inside her. I thought if she didn’t eat this morning she’d pass out on you.’

      ‘It was a nice thought, Bert, thank you.’

      ‘Pity I couldn’t get you to eat, though,’ Bert said. ‘Going out with just a cup of tea is no good to anyone.’

      ‘I’m all right,’ Betty said. ‘Truth is, my stomach is churning on account of young Janet. I thought it was better to keep off the fried stuff this morning.’

      Janet asked the same question of her mother on the bus. ‘Why didn’t you have any breakfast, Mom?’

      ‘I didn’t fancy a fry-up this morning, pet. I didn’t fancy anything much.’

      ‘You used to eat bacon and egg.’

      ‘Can’t take it now, though. Must be getting old.’

      ‘You’re not old, Mom,’ Janet said, and then qualified it to: ‘Not that old, anyway.’

      ‘Watch it, miss,’ Betty said with a smile.

      ‘I heard you being sick the other morning as well,’ Janet said.

      ‘It was something I ate, must’ve disagreed with me,’ Betty said. The bus ride wasn’t helping her queasiness, and she felt her stomach give a heave as they turned a sharp corner.

      ‘Let’s leave the subject of my stomach and concentrate on getting off

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