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haberdashery that she kept in her loft. Ruby had an elegance and confidence beyond her years. Becoming a Home Economist had a lot to do with it. Speaking in front of a room full of strangers had caused her to grow up quickly. She still looked her age, but there was something more commanding about her.
    Ruby slid her hand possessively through the crook of the American’s arm and smiled when he bent to kiss her cheek. So this was Ruby’s latest beau! Frances knew there was one but hadn’t met him until now.
    Declan O’Malley’s demeanour was warm and courteous. His smile was all embracing.
    â€˜I should have known,’ he said, shaking his head and adopting a doleful expression. ‘Two beauties like you had to belong to the same family. Tell me: how do the guys around here cope with their fluttering hearts?’
    Ruby nudged him in the ribs. ‘Declan! Stop that.’ She turned her attention to Frances, her gaze running down over the red dress that had once been hers. ‘You haven’t spilt anything on it already, have you?’
    Frances shook her head. ‘No. I’ve only just arrived.’
    â€˜You look flustered. Are you a little peeved?’ asked a smiling Ruby, still clinging on to the American’s arm.
    â€˜Of course not,’ Frances responded hotly. ‘Why should I be?’
    In the presence of the good-looking American, Frances held back from telling her what Mrs Powell had said.
    Ruby was not fooled. Looking her cousin in the eye she said, ‘Frances! I can tell, you know.’ She turned and smiled at Declan O’Malley. ‘My cousin has always worn her heart on her sleeve, even when she was a child.’
    Declan’s expression was inscrutable. ‘But she’s not a child now. That much is obvious.’
    Frances had been simmering at being referred to as a child. ‘That’s right. I’m not.’
    Ruby apologised. ‘It’s just that you seem a bit off.’
    â€˜I’m fine. I was just wondering whether red suits me.’
    A small frown puckered Ruby’s forehead. ‘Of course it does. Actually, it suits you better than it suited me. Red is your colour. Don’t you think so, Declan, my love?’
    Declan, a knowing smile on his lips, added his opinion. ‘I have to agree with Ruby. You look like a movie star. Perhaps I can have the pleasure of dancing with you later on?’ His very black pencil-thin eyebrows rose with quizzical amusement.
    â€˜Perhaps you can,’ returned Frances, unable to stop herself from blushing.
    His smile was warm and full of the confidence every American seemed to have in buckets.
    â€˜I’m not the best dancer in the world, but I promise not to step on your toes.’
    Wishing her face didn’t feel so hot, Frances tossed her head so that her hair fell around her shoulders in the seductive way it had earlier. ‘Oh, I don’t think you’re being honest, Declan. I bet you’re a really good dancer.’
    â€˜I try to be.’
    â€˜There!’ Ruby said in breathless exclamation. ‘My good friend Declan is in agreement with me. You look good in red. It’s been confirmed.’
    Frances thanked them both, at the same time wondering that Ruby had called Declan a good friend, not ‘my sweetheart’, ‘my boyfriend’. Though she had referred to him as ‘my love’, earlier. But that was without meaning, Frances decided. Ruby tended to use the same endearments for customers, for everyone.
    Ruby flitted from one man to the next, never staying too long in the company of any of them. Except her driver, thought Frances. Johnnie Smith, the corporal from the Royal Corps of Transport, had been assigned to her by the Ministry of Food. It had been his task to drive her from one baking demonstration to another. Ruby had spent more time with him than any other man, even if only in a working capacity.
    But Johnnie Smith had been