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them she had it off with them. Then her husband came home from the war.’
    ‘I thought as much,’ said Viv slowly. ‘Nick’s mother is that Mrs Bryce?’
    ‘Yes. She’s that Mrs Bryce.’ His voice dropped as he sat in the chair opposite her. ‘Now do you see what I mean about Nick?’
    There was silence as they stared at one another. Then Viv said, ‘I see what you mean me to see but Nick seems to have turned out all right and he’s told me that his mother’s turned respectable.’
    ‘He told you that?’
    Viv nodded. ‘Yes. She has an aspidistra and polishes it.’ A small smile played round her mouth.
    George groaned. ‘I don’t believe it! You’ve fallen for him.’
    ‘No, I haven’t!’ She was quite indignant. ‘But I needn’t judge him on who his mother is. I’ve lived in the shadow of what my mother did all my life. I’d say that gives Nick and me something in common.’
    George shook his head. ‘It’s not just what his mother did. It’s what he did. He got into trouble in his teens. Went round smashing windows and things.’
    ‘What things?’
    ‘I don’t know for sure’. He lit up another cigarette. ‘But there was talk. I knew a couple of lads who were at the Art School with him. He had a bad reputation. Girls and things.’
    ‘“Things” again,’ said Viv, staring intently at her fingernails.
    ‘He came into lessons drunk several times. He was only fourteen.’
    There was silence. Viv was trying to imagine what life had been like for Nick during the war, with his mother and her men, and after it when his father came home and beat him up. When had his parents divorced and when had he gone back to live with his mother? He had mentioned a grandmother several times. She felt angry with his parents, with George, and was surprisingly jealous of all those girls he had been with. ‘What was it you and he fought over?’ she murmured.
    George hesitated. ‘I called his mother a whore.’
    She shivered at his callous use of the word and remembered years ago when her grandfather had occasionally used it of her mother. ‘That must have made his day,’ she said in a tight voice.
    George drew on his cigarette and smoke trickled out of his nostrils. ‘I’ll never understand females. Mam was the same. She felt sorry for him. But he had a good time of it as far as I could see. Chewing gum, money, chocolate, comics …’ Hestood and gazed down at her. ‘You women always think you can reform the bad guys. More fool you, Viv, if you’re considering having a crack at Nick. Upbringing always tells. He’s a hard nut.’
    ‘Thanks for telling me.’ And before he could say any more she picked up her shoes and walked out of the room, closing the door firmly behind her. If she had stayed she might have said things she would regret. They had both been under a strain in the last twelve months.
    As Viv undressed she tried again to remember Nick as a boy but could only remember his sister Mavis who used to go to the park with her and Rosie occasionally. She thought of the way George had described the teenage Nick and was suddenly unsure of herself. Was she heading for trouble going out with him? Or had she found someone at last who would understand her feelings of inadequacy because of her birth? Who would provide her with approval and acceptance on her own merits?
    A yawn escaped her and she flopped on to the camp bed that she had moved from the kitchen into her grandfather’s room after having his smelly bed taken away. What was she worrying about? Hadn’t she made up her mind to go to America? After tomorrow she might never see Nick Bryce again. The thought did not give her much joy.

CHAPTER THREE
    Viv was wakened by the clacking of a football rattle. She pulled a pillow over her head and put her fingers in her ears but the pillow was wrenched away. She moaned. ‘D’you know what time it is?’
    Viv forced her eyelids open and blinked at George. ‘You’re obsessed with time,’ she