In the waiting room at the railway station, where the wall clock ticked loudly, Betty had locked herself into the ladies’ room and pulled the sewing scissors from her bag. Sitting perched on the closed toilet seat, she balanced her compact mirror on the mottled brown Bakelite door handle and got to work, chopping eight inches from her long honey-blonde hair, until she had a short jaw-length bob. Twisting her head this way and that, she realised it was a little uneven and longer on one side, but with a headscarf, it would do. She’d never been one for make-up but had the remains of an old Pillarbox Red lipstick in her bag, so she applied the colour to her lips, pinched her cheeks and stared at her new self. At twenty-four years old she was relatively young, but after six years of marriage to Robert she felt twice her age. Thinking of Robert, she straightened her fingers and glanced down at her wedding band. When he first proposed, a month after they started courting, they’d stood at the glistening window of Simpson’s Jewellers and he’d promised to buy her a pink cluster ring, soon as he’d saved enough wages. She had believed everything he said. Of course, the fancy ring never materialised. Not that she cared about jewels. It was a family she’d wanted, babies and children to fill their hearts and marital home with love and laughter, but Robert always had a reason for why they should wait. Before the war it was because his wages weren’t good enough. Since the war had started, it was the uncertainty he blamed. He would listen to the wireless and shake his head, before telling her, ‘This is no world for kiddies to come into.’ Now she knew why. Loosening the ring from her finger, she stood up and lifted the toilet lid, holding the ring above the pan.

Shall I?, she mused, imagining the ring sinking into the sewers and catching on a rat’s tail, before thinking better of it.

I’ll sell it, she thought, stuffing it into her purse along with the lengths of hair she’d cut from her head. Making her way out of the ladies’, half-expecting people to point and laugh at her new look, she walked quickly to the platform to await the train. It was buzzing with military personnel and sweethearts saying goodbye to one another after short bursts of precious leave. It was hard not to stare.

As she boarded the train, Betty tried to distract herself by reading a copy of the Bournemouth Echo that had been left in the luggage rack. Scanning the Situations Vacant page, her eyes rested on a position for a shop girl in a bakery. She carefully tore out the advertisement, folded it up and put it in her purse. As soon as she arrived in Bournemouth, she would go to the bakery and put herself forward for the job and if that didn’t work, she’d get a job as a domestic help. Anything would do.

Gazing out of the window at the blurred scenery, she tried to control her rising panic as her thoughts turned to Robert and how he would react when she didn’t return home tonight. While his uncle sat reading the paper, or polishing his collection of horse brasses, would Robert peer out of the window criss-crossed with Splinternet tape, scanning the street with concern for her safety? Or would he slip out of the back door, as he so often did, and disappear into the night like a furtive fox?

Doris is welcome to him, she told herself, digging her nails into her palms.

Betty remembered the painful evening when she’d followed him, wondering where it was that he went every other evening. She had suspected that he was going to the King’s Head pub and was horrified when he went instead to an address in Hamlyn Street and was lovingly greeted by Doris, a girl she’d been at school with. Wearing a mop hat and apron, Doris clutched a baby in her arms while a toddler and an older boy twisted around her ankles.

Betty had almost collapsed on the pavement when the toddler had held up his arms to Robert and called him ‘Dadda’. It had taken only a simple enquiry, door-knocking Doris’s elderly neighbour and pretending to be lost, to discover that Robert had another family. Another wife! Doris and Robert were husband and wife. They had children together. His life with Betty was a lie. Her marriage was a sham.

What a silly girl I’ve been, she thought as the train slowed down as it drew closer to Bournemouth Central station. Suddenly furious, she pushed down the train window, reached into her purse and hurled the gold ring out onto the tracks. As soon as the shiny band landed on the stony ground, a magpie deftly swooped down from a tree and pinched it for its nest.

‘More fool you,’ Betty said, slamming the window shut and gathering her few things, ready to disembark – but not before the old ominous rhyme passed through her head. One for sorrow, two for joy… With trembling legs and a pounding heart, she stepped onto the station platform, quickly scanning the horizon for another magpie. But there was only one visible in the cloudless sky. A shiver ran up her spine: one for sorrow.

Lily read the telegram several times over in her head before clearing her throat and looking up at Audrey’s face, which, since she had fallen pregnant, glowed a shade of fireside pink whether it was hot or cold.

‘What is it?’ asked Audrey, her hands on her hips and her blue eyes widening. ‘Don’t keep me waiting! Who’s the telegram from?’

Lily swallowed. She looked around the bakery shop that had become her home since she turned up on the doorstep, secretly pregnant by her cheating boss and with nowhere to go. On the first day she’d arrived, Audrey had taken her to help at the Bournemouth School for Boys, where French soldiers who had been rescued from the beaches at Dunkirk were being cared for, and she had met Jacques – a young French soldier. The two of them had instantly liked each other and when Jacques returned to active service, he’d written Lily a beautiful letter declaring his love for her. But, before she had been able to reply and confess to him that she was in fact pregnant by another man, Jacques’ mother had written to inform her and Audrey that Jacques was missing at sea and presumed killed. Now though, more than a year later, Jacques himself had written to Lily to tell her that he had in fact been in a prisoner-of-war camp, but he had escaped.

‘It’s Jacques,’ she said, her voice almost a whisper as the enormity of the news sank into her brain. Audrey gasped, her hand flying to cover her mouth. Though the bakery family had only known Jacques for a few days, their lives had been touched by his courage and integrity. They had all been devastated to hear that he was presumed dead.

‘Jacques?’ said Audrey, lifting her hands to her cheeks in shock. ‘Alive?’

‘Yes, he’s alive,’ said Lily, blinking in disbelief. ‘He says—’

The words stuck in her throat and she stopped talking. Audrey grabbed Lily’s hand and squeezed it. Lily’s eyes lowered to the telegram, the few words blurring in front of her eyes as she took a deep breath and began to read, her voice trembling with excitement and shock.

Lily raised her head to meet Audrey’s gaze.

‘I need to sit down,’ said Audrey. ‘Goodness me, Lily. Isn’t that wonderful news? What a thing!’

Lily nodded, genuinely utterly delighted; but already, in a distant part of her mind, fear was gathering like rainclouds. Jacques had said that she was his reason for surviving, but he didn’t know that she had a child. He had never known that when they had met, she was actually pregnant out of wedlock – a fact that had brought great shame to her family. Would he still like her when he learned that she was bringing up Joy on her own? It was extremely unlikely, wasn’t it? For a moment she stayed quiet, but Audrey immediately seemed to read her mind and pulled her in for a tight hug.

‘In wartime life gets complicated,’ she said quietly, and gently released her stepsister from her arms. ‘He knows that, probably better than anyone.’

‘But how can I tell him?’ Lily replied. ‘He has a picture of me in his head that isn’t true. How can I reply to this?’

Lily’s initial happiness at receiving the telegram was still burning in her belly, but the thought of shattering Jacques’ dream was unbearable. If the idea of Lily had helped him survive the grimmest experience of his life, what would happen when he discovered that idea was all wrong – that she wasn’t the innocent girl he imagined her to be?

‘Any man worth his salt will understand that you made a brave decision,’ Audrey said. ‘At the very least, you must give him the opportunity to understand. You clearly mean so much to him, so you must tell him the truth. In my experience truth will out. It always does. Better slip with foot than tongue. Try not to worry, Lily. This telegram is a reason to celebrate.’

‘Yes, you’re right,’ replied Lily with a smile, but their conversation was interrupted by the gentle jingle of the shop bell as a young woman walked in from the street. Blinking, Lily wiped the tears of joy from her eyes, folded up the letter, stuffed it into her pocket and smiled at the woman. She was very petite and pretty, but dressed in a blue day dress that had seen better days, its fabric so thin it was almost translucent. Her hair was cut in the most peculiar way, with one side slightly longer than the other. She had grey bags under her grey eyes and seemed nervous, checking over her shoulder as if worried someone might be following her. With a bag on one arm and her gas mask case on the other, she held a torn piece of newspaper in her hand.

‘How can I help you?’ asked Audrey, resuming her place behind the counter. The girl straightened her back and lifted her chin, before clearing her throat.

‘I’ve come about the job I saw advertised in the Echo,’ she said, holding up the torn sheet of newspaper.

‘Yes,’ said Audrey. ‘It’s still available. I’m looking for someone to start immediately.’

‘I’m hard-working and honest and I won’t let you down,’ the girl said. ‘I’ve worked in a shop and a factory and I’ve never missed a shift. I’ve been volunteering for the WVS too, with collections and their canteen. I like to be busy and useful.’

Lily looked at Audrey. She came out from behind the counter and shook Betty warmly by the hand.

‘What’s your name, love?’ Audrey said. ‘Are you from around here? I don’t recognise your face.’

‘It’s Betty,’ she said, her eyes darting around the shop for a good few moments as she hesitated before she spoke again. ‘I’m Betty… Smith… and I’m from… Portsmouth.’

‘Okay,’ said Audrey, frowning slightly and exchanging glances with Lily. ‘Do you have references please, Betty?’

Panic swept over Betty’s features and Audrey, who Lily knew couldn’t bear to put people on the spot and watch anyone suffer, gently patted her hand. ‘Never mind about those,’ she said quickly. ‘What good is a piece of paper anyway? I’ll need to see for myself how you work and interact with the customers, maybe do some deliveries too to the folk who can’t get to the shop. I’m looking for someone who will always put the customer first, even if their feet and shoulders are aching. Since my husband, the master baker, joined up and our shop girl, Maggie left, we’re a small team, but we get the job done. Women have stepped up to the mark on the buses, trams, railways, on the land and in the munitions factories – and we’re no exception in Barton’s.’

Betty smiled.

‘Folk round here rely on our bread,’ explained Audrey. ‘In times of rationing, it’s helping to keep the wolf from the door and is a staple of people’s diets, so your job here would be very important indeed. We all take pride in the bakery, so I hope you would too.’

Betty nodded enthusiastically. ‘Yes, Mrs Barton,’ she said. ‘Of course.’

‘Well, I’d be willing to give you a two-day trial, starting tomorrow,’ said Audrey. ‘Why don’t you come back later, for dinner?’

‘Oh no, I couldn’t put you out,’ Betty said.

‘A slice of cake then?’ Audrey said. ‘I’m baking a honey cake for the occasion. I’m friends with the bee-keeper, you see. Come round this evening, you wouldn’t be putting me out. It would be an opportunity to meet everyone you’ll be working with and my mother-in-law Pat, who is heavily involved in the WVS. She’ll direct you to where you’re needed most.’

Audrey paused for a moment before quickly stuffing a paper bag with two scones.

‘Please take these with you,’ she said. ‘They’re nothing much, just stales.’

‘They’re not sta—’ started Lily, but Audrey shut her down with a glare and pushed the scones into Betty’s hands.

‘Thank you,’ Betty said in amazement. ‘That’s so generous. Are you sure about later? You don’t even know me. I don’t want to be a burden.’

‘There’s a place at my table for an honest hard worker,’ said Audrey. ‘And I can see by your hands and the soles of your shoes that you’re not an idle girl. It nearly slipped my mind but we’re doing some clothes-swapping and sewing this evening too. Aren’t we, Lily?’

‘Are we?’ said Lily, frowning. ‘Oh yes, we are.’

Betty’s face reddened.

‘Oh,’ said Betty. ‘But I don’t have any clothes to swap. I haven’t brought very much with me, I travelled light since most of my clothes were lost in air raids…’

Audrey waved her hands in the air dismissively.

‘Don’t let that worry you,’ she said. ‘We can sort that out.’

Betty gave a small, gratified smile, her eyes flickering nervously from Lily to Audrey. There was something she was hiding, that was plain to see, but Lily knew Audrey would get to the bottom of it – she had a nose for the truth. While Audrey saw Betty out of the shop, Lily’s thoughts returned to the telegram from Jacques that burned a hole in her pocket. She wondered how she should best reply, wishing her life wasn’t so tangled in secrets. Audrey’s earlier words echoed in Lily’s head. Truth will out. It always does.