He was honest, and told me he was still in love with Peggy but didn’t know what the future of that relationship would be, and would like to see more of me.

The next day all the important members of the Student Communist Party called on Peter to warn him against me, but of course he didn’t tell me this. I was used to men making play for me very early in an acquaintanceship and the fact that Peter did not made him different and more interesting. Peggy wasn’t there so I decided to risk a broken heart and see him as often as I could. He had no money at all – but before term ended we exchanged home addresses and telephone numbers, and I was pleased to find that he lived at Bexleyheath, only a few miles from my home at Blackheath.

After Christmas I invited him to tea. He turned up on my doorstep having cycled over Shooters Hill and refused to come in until I produced some dry tea – “or parsley will do if that is more convenient”. He didn’t at all mind admitting that he had forgotten he was coming to see me and had eaten a large raw onion with his bread and cheese lunch. Raw tea was available and, apparently, if he chewed it the smell of onions would be less noticeable – but as he didn’t kiss me I couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. Having got over that difficulty his visit was a success – my mother certainly seemed to like him.

The following week he rang up and invited me back to meet his family – a brave thing to do. They were still in the Bexleyheath house but as they were unable to pay the rent the landlord wouldn’t do any repairs. The floorboards in the kitchen had rotted so we had to walk on the joists. Florence, Peter’s mother, had just had all her teeth out and hadn’t yet got replacements. The bare boards in the entrance hall were dusty and hanging on the wall was a sixpence-in-the-slot cigarette machine – the kind you used to find outside tobacconists: 6d bought 10 Players and they fondly imagined they were saving money.

Out beyond the dangerous kitchen, in the factory, Peter and Bill were working with chisels on an order for 5000 show cards which had been misprinted and cut; the small hole in all the @’s had been omitted.

After tea we played dictionary games around the cleared table, now covered in a plush table covering with tassels – but this was not something in which I was able to shine. Arthur was worried that I didn’t seem to be enjoying myself and suggested a singsong round the piano. Florence played the accompaniment but as she never had time to practice it was punctuated by loud contralto curses when she hit the wrong note. Joan had a high, true soprano voice while Peter and Bill sang seconds.