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which kept his cinema chain well ahead of all East End rivals. But her own poor little business, dressmaking with Hettie, was overshadowed and neglected. She even felt that Maurice would uproot it if he could, and throw it away like a useless weed. He never said so in so many words. But then he never praised her efforts either, and sometimes suggested that Grace and Mo might prefer it if she gave up the work. ‘It’s not as if we need the money,’ he told her, in a spirit of husbandly generosity. ‘I earn enough, and I don’t like the idea of you working your fingers to the bone. It’s like the old sweated labour.’
    â€˜That’s all you know,’ she challenged. ‘Our little shop is in a good spot on the High Street. We’re getting to be very fashionable with a certain class of lady round here.’ They’d graduated long ago from the repairs and alterations of their humble beginnings above the Duke.
    â€˜The trouble is, wives round here don’t go out to work much.’ Maurice’s dark brows had furrowed. ‘It ain’t Paradise Court!’
    â€˜I know it ain’t!’ She’d looked at him long and hard. ‘What about Hettie?’ she said finally. ‘Don’t I owe it to her to keep on?’
    So he’d let the matter drop, and she often stayed up late at night, after the children had gone to bed, making up orders for chiffon party dresses and crêpe-de-Chine visiting outfits. During the day, she would enjoy her time with Hettie in their chic little shop. She took pleasure in the cut and quality of their tailormade clothes.
    â€˜You know it’s two o’clock in the morning?’ Maurice’s voice interrupted her train of thought. He peered round the door, sounding subdued, seeing her still sitting there in the pool of light.
    Immediately she felt contrite. ‘Can’t you sleep?’ she asked as she stood up and came halfway to meet him.
    â€˜No.’ He’d come down dressed in pyjamas. ‘Was it my fault?’
    â€˜What?’ She glanced at his raffled hair, his tired face. ‘No, it’s mine. I should’ve realized.’ She could never sleep when Maurice stayed up late either. She went and put her arms around his neck. ‘You should’ve let me know before now.’
    He kissed her. ‘I knew you were busy.’
    Stroking his cheeks she whispered, ‘Not too busy,’ and felt his arms tighten around her.
    â€˜You’ll come now?’ he murmured. Their passion, undimmed by the years, rekindled easily. His arms pressed her to him. She leaned back to unpin her hair and let it fell loose to her waist. Tilting sideways, he kissed her neck, then led her from the room.
    The light burned all night long. In the morning, Maurice came downstairs and turned it off before he opened the curtains and went through into the kitchen to make tea for Jess and take glasses of fresh milk up to Grace and Mo.

Chapter Four
    November faded into a raw, dripping December, accompanied by rain and fog. They were short, cold days, harbouring a continuing fear of hunger in the docklands. Still, the East Enders found things to be cheerful about, whistling the old wartime songs in the streets, standing in long, damp queues to watch Crystal Palace rout the northern opposition, then emulating their heroes during Sunday matches in their local park.
    On the second Saturday of the month, Palace were to meet up with arch-rivals Derby County. Walter Davidson and Rob gave themselves a rare afternoon off from taxi work, leaving Richie in charge of the depot. Tension between the three of them had slackened off during the weeks since Sadie’s heart-to-heart with Walter, when she confessed the mistake she’d made in going to the picture-house with Richie. She told him she hadn’t realized how it might look; she hadn’t meant any harm and she was truly sorry. She didn’t mention the kiss.
    Walter