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giving her husband a kick under the table. ‘Evie doesn’t want to look at your miserable face. You’ll put her off her dinner. Shepherd’s pie?’ She scooped a large serving onto Evie’s plate. ‘Without the shepherds, I’m afraid.’
    Evie grinned – it was an old family joke, a response to her childhood questions about what went in Granny’s dishes.
    ‘Will we be having cottage pie this week as well?’ she said.
    ‘No, I couldn’t crush up the bricks small enough.’ Mavis smiled back, and Evie was relieved to see the sunshine had returned to her eyes.
    ‘Who lives at number eight now?’ she asked, loading up her fork with mince and potato.
    ‘That’ll be Sarah Lowrie. She’s a lovely girl, lived there about five years.’
    ‘Her husband, is he some kind of builder?’
    Mavis shook her head and swallowed a mouthful. ‘She hasn’t got a husband. Sarah’s what we used to call a spinster. Although she’s only in her thirties, so I suppose there’s still time …’
    Mavis tailed off, and Evie put down her fork. Frank looked from one to the other and groaned.
    ‘Oh, for pity’s sake, not this again. You two, you’re always the same when you get on this subject. Mavis, for the last time, will you leave the poor girl alone. If she wanted to get married she would – look at her, she’s beautiful and successful, she’s got her career and all. It’s not as if she can’t actually get a man, is it? She’s just choosy, aren’t you, my love?’ Frank patted Evie’s hand. ‘There’s nothing wrong with being a single woman these days. You make the most of it. Married life’s not all it’s cracked up to be.’
    ‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ Mavis stood up, nearly knocking the rickety table into Evie’s lap. ‘I’ve been a wonderful wife to you, Frank Stone, and if you don’t appreciate me you can bloody well go and–’
    ‘Gran? Come on, sit down. He’s only winding you up.’ Evie gave her grandfather a sharp stare, and he responded with a shrug and an innocent expression.
    ‘I was just saying, that’s all. Women are more able these days. They don’t need a man to make them complete.’
    ‘Well, of all the … I’ll have you know I don’t need a man to make me complete either.’ On her feet again, Mavis glared down at her husband. ‘If I had my time again, to think what I could do with it. I could have been anything – a dancer, an actress.’
    ‘You’re not wrong about that,’ Frank said in a low voice, raising his eyebrows at Evie, who fought back a grin and held out her hands to her gran.
    ‘Please, just sit back down and finish your lunch. We’ve got enough going on this afternoon without you two arguing.’ Evie cast around for a change of subject. ‘So if this Sarah person isn’t married, who was the man I just saw leaving her house?’
    ‘Man?’ Mavis sat down and looked interested. ‘You saw her with a man?’
    Evie smiled. ‘I did. Just now. He was wearing overalls and had a tool bag. I assumed it was her husband – she looked kind of attached to him.’
    Frank grinned and nodded to Mavis. ‘He’s a dark horse, isn’t he?’
    ‘He sure is.’
    ‘Who?’ said Evie. ‘Who was he?’
    ‘I reckon it must be Tim.’
    ‘No way. Woolly? Tim Woolly Robinson? I’d have recognised him, wouldn’t I?’
    Frank said, ‘Blue overalls? All starched-looking, like they’ve barely seen the light of day?’ Evie nodded. ‘That’s him alright.’
    ‘But he looked so …’ Evie stopped and stared down at her plate. She had been about to say “old”. Of course he was older. Time passed, and when you had been away from a place it was ridiculous to think people would stay the same. But Tim, looking so worn down and middle-aged.
    ‘I remember him when he first started working at the Woolworths in town. So proud, he was, so full of himself.’
    Tim was five years older than her, and she’d had a crush on him at one point during her early teens. He’d been