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asked quietly as she looked shyly around the room.
    ‘No, but he’ll be here in –’ Ronnie glanced at the clock ‘– five minutes. Usual?’
    ‘Yes please.’ She rummaged in her handbag and pulled out a well-worn leather purse. ‘And ...’ she peered through the steamed-up glass on the cases that held the cakes. ‘One of those custard slices, please Ronnie, and a ...’
    ‘Knife and two plates. I know,’ he grumbled good-naturedly. ‘With customers like you and Haydn Powell I’ll be in the bankruptcy court next week.’
    ‘Better half a sale than none. Leastways, that’s what’s my dad always says.’
    ‘Your father has a thriving shop and the whole of the Graig to sell to.’
    ‘And you have an enormous café and the whole of the town to peddle to,’ she smiled. She pulled a chair out from a table crammed into a corner between the counter and the till. It was the only free table in the café but precious few meals were being eaten. A couple of customers had plates in front of them that held buns, cold pancakes or sandwiches, but most were nursing tepid cups of tea or Oxo.
    ‘Here you are. One tea, one iced custard slice, a knife and two plates.’ Ronnie left the counter and laid them on her table himself. ‘How’s that for service?’
    ‘Wonderful.’ She smiled at Gina. ‘Does he do this for all the girls?’
    ‘Only other people’s girlfriends,’ Gina said mildly. ‘That way he knows he can stay safely married to Papa and the business.’
    ‘Time you started bagging some of that change in the till, Gina,’ Ronnie ordered.
    ‘You know I hate doing that. My fingers get filthy and my nails break ...’
    ‘Gina!’ Ronnie warned in a voice that was used to being obeyed.
    ‘People are saying that you’re thinking of opening another café in that vacant shop opposite the fountain,’ Jenny interrupted tactfully.
    ‘Are they now?’ Ronnie murmured as he returned behind the counter.
    ‘Well are you?’
    ‘Better go and ask whoever told you. Seems they know more about my business than I do.’
    ‘Make way for two drowned rats,’ William shouted as he and Haydn burst, dripping and cold, into the café.
    ‘Hello sweetheart,’ Haydn ruffled Jenny’s curls with a damp hand.
    ‘I’ve got us a custard slice,’ she beamed, her face lighting up.
    ‘Can I take your order?’ Tina sidled close to William, pouted her well-formed lips, hitched her skirt up slightly, and stood in what she hoped was a fair imitation of the Jean Harlow pose.
    ‘Two teas, is it?’ Ronnie shouted from behind the counter.
    ‘And a couple of Welsh cakes,’ William replied, winking at Tina. ‘I’m starving.’
    ‘Aren’t you always?’ Haydn commented scathingly.
    ‘I haven’t a Jenny to take my mind off food.’ William stared at Tina. ‘Corner of Griffiths’ shop, ten o’clock tonight,’ he whispered teasingly. ‘I’ll walk you home if you spend the evening with Jenny. Sorry I can’t make it any earlier, but you know the market on Saturday nights.’
    ‘Tina, those back tables need clearing, and wiping down,’ Ronnie directed. He was too far away to hear what William was saying but he knew William – and Tina. They’d had a soft spot for one another ever since they’d been classmates in Maesycoed primary school. A soft spot that had led his father to decree that Tina could only talk to William in the presence of himself or one of her grown-up brothers. It was a rule that Tina made a point of breaking wherever and whenever she could.
    Ronnie watched as Tina reluctantly dragged herself off to the back of the café. They stared belligerently at one another through the thick, smoky atmosphere as she began to heap dirty dishes into a pile. Finally her temper flared up again, to the delight of all the customers except William.
    ‘I am eighteen,’ she snapped.
    ‘And when you’re twenty-one you can do as you like,’ Ronnie said softly. ‘Until then you do as Papa and I say.’
    Ronnie took his