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wondering how they managed to get their hair looking so nice and their make-up so perfect, painfully aware that she was a real plain Jane. Her hair was as straight as a poker, as Miss Timms had used to tease her, and she was so slim that she was almost boyish.
    Coming back to the present, she renewed her efforts when she saw Mr Bradley glance her way, and in no time at all the gloves were replaced neatly beneath the glass counter. Through the window she could see that it was growing dark and she knew that it must be getting on for home time. Other girls were bustling about tidying the hats that were strategically placed for best effect about the shop, and others were dusting their counters whilst keeping an eye on Mr Bradley’s movements. They all knew that he would not allow any of them to go home until the whole place was spotless, and so they scurried about like ants, putting the shop to rights.
    At last Mr Bradley was satisfied with their efforts and he waved his hand dismissively as Mrs Broadstairs followed him about like a lovesick puppy. The girls trooped away to the staff room where they chatted animatedly about what they were going to do that night as they wrapped up warmly. Dotty listened wistfully as she shrugged her arms into her drab brown coat. It was the one that the orphanage had supplied; plain but serviceable, as were all the clothes that the children there were given. I’ll perhaps save up and get myself a new one, Dotty thought as they all began the long trek through the department store. They passed the lingerie department and the bridal department where the shop assistants were still throwing snow-white sheets across the gowns on mannequins that were dotted about, and Dotty sighed dreamily as she tried to imagine how it would feel to wear such a dress – not that she was ever likely to find out. She needed no one to tell her that she was as plain as a pikestaff. The mirror told her that every time she glimpsed herself in it.
    A doorman stood at either side of the exit when the girls finally reached the ground floor. The doors had been closed to the public for the day now, but they unlocked them for the staff to leave, flirting outrageously with the prettier ones. But no one bothered Dotty or even seemed to notice her for that matter; it didn’t trouble her, she was used to it by now.
    The cold outside took her breath away and after pulling her collar higher she set out for the Pool Meadow bus station. Frost was already forming on the pavements and the thought of going back to a cold empty room and making herself a meal was not appealing. At least at the orphanage she had had her meals prepared for her, and had been surrounded by people. Still, there was no going back; so she knew she would just have to make the best of it.
    The smell of boiled cabbage and the sounds of babies crying met her when she entered the house. She was cold and tired by then and she trudged wearily up the steep staircase. Once inside the tiny room she hastily lit the gasfire, then went to rummage in the only cupboard the room possessed. Her search came up with a tin of soup, so after taking the lid off with a tin opener, she put it in a saucepan on the gas-ring to heat up, then peeled off her layers of outer clothing before turning the wireless on. The sound of Bing Crosby floated around the room as another lonely night loomed ahead of her. The only visitors she had had since moving in were her welfare worker and Miss Timms.
    Placing the kettle on the other gas-ring, she then turned to the bucket of cold water that she stood her milk in, only to find that it had curdled. She wrinkled her nose as she sniffed it before tipping it down the sink, then turned the soup off. There was nothing else for it; if she wanted a cup of tea that evening she would have to go to the corner shop, although she didn’t fancy venturing outside into the cold again. She pulled her boots and her coat back on then hurried out onto the landing, locking