Dottie shrugs. ‘Why would I have seen it? You never even let me try it.’
‘Oh, crumbs.’
‘Ellie Mae. Your language.’
‘Sorry, Poppy,’ Ellie apologises as she watches her sister slope off into the sitting room. ‘It’s just that they’re not selling lipsticks anywhere anymore. All the metal has to go to the war. How am I supposed to keep up my morale without lipstick?’
‘You don’t need it, pet.’
‘Poppy, every young woman needs lipstick. I just read in the paper last week that the Ministry of Supply says that make-up is as important for women and tobacco is for men. The British government, Poppy!’
‘Well, you have me there, pet.’
‘I’ll just have to pray that Jarrolds or Buntings gets a delivery of refills soon. Otherwise it’s beet juice until the end of this wretched war.’
Henry scoops up the last bite of his birthday cake. ‘That was a lovely treat, Ellie Mae. I must write a letter to the Newfoundland regiment to thank them for the oranges.’
‘Oh, no, don’t do that. I—I mean, I’ll do it. It was my surprise for you. I’ll send them a thank you note tomorrow.’ Her father must never know she’d nicked the oranges for the cake. She’d have to do at least fifty Hail Marys at confession if he ever found out.
‘Well done, then. Do tell them how much I enjoyed my birthday cake.’ Rolling up his napkin, he pokes it through his napkin ring. ‘Don’t be too hard on George, Ellie Mae. It was a very nice gesture. You should be grateful he remembered.’
‘I suppose so. I just wish it’d been more romantic.’
‘It’s wartime, pet. It’s not easy to buy gifts.’
‘Poppy, he works at a chocolate factory.’
Pushing out his chair, he nods. ‘That’s a good point. You might drop him a hint next year or you’re likely to receive a stapler. George is nothing if not practical.’
***
Five days later:
Thomas stops abruptly and turns in the direction of the woman’s voice.
‘Yes, I’ll take the navy fedora, one of the pheasant feathers, half a yard of the back grosgrain ribbon and half a yard of the black netting, please.’
The stout woman stallholder squints at the wide-brimmed fedora on display on a home-made mannequin’s head. ‘Are you sure about the hat, miss?’ she says in a broad Norfolk twang. ‘It’s a man’s hat.’
‘Yes, I’m aware of that, Mrs Goodrum. I’m going to dress it up. I’ll come and show it to you when I’m done.’
Thomas edges past the noonday shoppers to the market stall. He points at the navy fedora. ‘Could I have a look at that hat, please?’
‘Thomas?’
Mrs Goodrum shifts her gaze between Thomas and Ellie. ‘I believe this young lady was ’bout to buy it.’
‘The young lady hasn’t bought it yet, has she?’
The woman shakes her head, setting her double chin waggling. ‘It’s twelve bob.’
Thomas lets out a whistle. ‘Twelve bob! That’s highway robbery.’
Mrs Goodrum purses her lips. ‘You’d pay over three quid for this brand new. Just have a feel of this. Best felt. Christy’s of London. The king has one just like it. He was in the papers wearing it just the other day.’
‘Ol’ George’s gots a hat like this, does he?’ Thomas says as he runs his fingers along the soft brim. ‘Then I’ve gots to try it—’ he grins at Ellie ‘—if it’s all the same to you.’
Ellie grabs Thomas’s arm. ‘Excuse me! That’s my hat. I was just about to pay for it.’
Thomas shoves his army beret into Ellie’s hand and sets the navy felt fedora on his head. ‘How’s it look?’
‘That was my hat. I’ve been saving for it for weeks.’ Ellie turns to the stallholder. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Goodrum, I have to cancel my order. I have no use for ribbon, feather and netting if I can’t have my hat.’ She thrusts Thomas’s beret at him. ‘Here, I’m not your coat hook.’
Thomas watches Ellie storm through the heaving waves of shoppers. He pulls out a crisp blue-orange one-pound note and presses it into Mrs Goodrum’s plump hand. ‘Don’t bother with the change, duck.’
Tucking the fedora under his arm, he elbows his way through the shoppers as he readjusts his beret. He follows Ellie thought the maze of market stalls to the corner of Exchange Street where he spies her disappearing though the white pillars of Jarrolds department store. Inside, he finds her in the cosmetics department, frowning as she reads a notice stuck to the front of the display case.
Taking a deep breath, he presents the fedora to Ellie with a flourish. ‘I thinks you might be needin’ this.’
She looks up at him, her blue-grey eyes startled. ‘You again?’
‘You’d freeze a swimmin’ cod with that welcome.’
‘Well, what do you expect after stealing my new hat? I wanted to have something nice for Easter Sunday.’
He waves the hat at Ellie. ‘Please, maid. Take the hat. Consider it an early Easter present. Spend the money on somethin’ nice for your mam. If she’s anythin’ like mine, she’ll dance a jig with a few extra bob in her pocket.’
‘My mother died in a car accident when I was ten.’
Thomas’s face falls. ‘I’m sorry. That’s a hard thing.’ He offers the hat to her again. ‘Please, the least you can do is take the hat. I bought it for you. I saw you in the market and I had to do something. It’s the first time I’ve seen you without your shadow.’
‘George is my boyfriend. Of course he’d be at the dances with me.’
‘Well, that’s just made my day.’
Ellie frowns. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Last time I heard, he was your fiancé. Now that he’s been demoted, maybe I’ve gots half a chance.’
‘George is my fiancé. I just don’t have a ring yet.’
‘He’s asked you, then? Got down on one knee and all that?’
‘No, not exactly. Not yet.’
‘He better get his skates on.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘It means “all’s fair in love and war”.’ He holds out the fedora. ‘Please, take the hat. One of the other fellas will
