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Jenny.’ Aunt Lizzie brought her out of her daze with a dig in the ribs. ‘What’s up, chuck? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
    ‘It’s nothing,’ Jenny lied. ‘I’m just a bit tired.’
    ‘Best get yourself off to the bar before you drop off, then.’ Lizzie scooped the pot money off the table and dumped it in her hand. ‘Rum for Mrs P and Kenny. Scotch for Mrs J and them other two. Gin for me and Hetty. A lager for Bob. And whatever you’re having.’
    ‘Can’t someone else go?’ Jenny asked quietly.
    ‘It’s for your mam,’ Lizzie reminded her, nudging her off the seat with her hip.
    Aunt Hetty had already stood up to let her out from behind the table, so Jenny had no choice but to do as she’d been told. Dismayed to see that the only space at the bar was a tiny gap at the side of Steve, she slipped into it and pulled her hair down over the side of her face, conscious of her drab clothes and washed-out complexion.
    When the lads had been served, Steve picked up his pint and turned to look for a seat. ‘Sorry, love,’ he apologised when he banged Jenny with his elbow. ‘Didn’t see you there.’
    ‘It’s all right,’ she muttered, keeping her face averted as her cheeks flared.
    ‘Coo-ee!’ one of the factory women called just then. ‘Stevie! Over here!’
    Steve looked around and waved when he saw his mother sitting with Jenny’s party. ‘All right, Mam. What you doing here?’
    ‘ Funeral, ’ she mouthed. ‘ Her mam .’
    She pointed at the girl who was standing beside him, and Steve peered down at her. He was about to offer his condolences but hesitated when he recognised her. ‘It’s Jenny, isn’t it?’
    ‘Yeah.’ She nodded.
    ‘Sorry about your mum.’
    ‘Thanks.’
    ‘That’s mine, in case you hadn’t guessed.’ Steve nodded back towards the table. ‘Didn’t know they knew each other. Small world, eh?’
    Jenny gave him a tight smile and willed him to stop talking to her before Mark stopped chatting up the barmaid and spotted her. She’d dreamed about running into Mark so many times, but in those dreams she always looked amazing and he was always completely bowled over. But that was hardly going to happen if he saw her like this.
    It was too late. Mark turned round.
    ‘You remember Jenny, don’t you?’ Steve said.
    Mark took a sip of his pint and gave her a bored look. Then, shrugging as if he’d never seen her before in his life, he said, ‘Hurry up, the machine’s free.’
    ‘Sorry about that,’ Steve apologised as his friend strode away. ‘I’d, er, best go.’ Unsure what else to say, he gave her an awkward smile and rushed after Mark.
    Jenny stepped into the space they’d left at the bar and ordered the drinks she’d been sent for.
    ‘Do you mind if we go after this?’ she whispered to her aunt when she carried them back to the table. ‘I’m getting a headache.’
    ‘You get off whenever you like, chuck.’ Lizzie patted her hand. ‘You’ve had a hard day.’
    ‘Aren’t you coming?’ Jenny asked, dismayed at the thought of going home on her own. ‘I thought you and Hetty might stay over?’
    ‘Oh, no, we’ve got to get home to the cats,’ Lizzie informed her. ‘But don’t you worry about us. The fifty-seven stops round the corner from ours, so we’ll just hop on that.’ With that, she turned back to the others and clapped her hands together. ‘Right, you lot, I bet you all know this one, so don’t be shy about joining in . . . She’s only a bird, in a gilded cage . . . ’
    As the oldies sang loudly along, Jenny downed her drink and slipped out quietly. It was freezing by now, so she pulled up the collar of her thin coat and walked quickly home.
    The house was dark, and there wasn’t a sound but for the soft tick-tock of her mum’s brass carriage clock on the mantelpiece. Jenny made her weary way upstairs and pushed her mum’s bedroom door slowly open. It was a week since she’d found her dead in her bed, and she