Wiping the blood from her finger, Maggie cursed the swine who’d invited the design of the corned beef tin. The blasted wee key that always seemed to tear the tin apart left a razor-sharp edge to the metal. She read that the tins were designed so that soldiers during the war could have their corned beef and use what was left of the tin to keep the rest of it fresh.

It was still a novelty having corned beef in Aberdeen. When the typhoid epidemic hit she wasn’t sure if she could ever face it again. It was only when the Queen came to the city earlier that year that Maggie felt safe eating corned beef or indeed shopping in Willie Lows.

Corned beef was a staple in their house. Even working two jobs, steak was a luxury that was something of an annual treat. The money in her purse never seemed to go very far nowadays. She’d been shocked to find that a dozen eggs now cost four shillings from Charlie Taylor’s van. He always had a reputation for being a ‘right swick’ but I suppose he could afford to charge a premium considering he called round the scheme twice a day meaning the women who lived here didn’t have to trek miles from the shops every day loaded down with heavy bags of groceries.

Moving to this estate had been a joy at first and she was glad to take the council up on their offer of a ground-floor flat with three bedrooms, which meant the boys could have their own room for the first time.

Maybe when they built these houses they assumed that every family would be tootling about in the Moris Minor making trips to the shops for the messages. The truth was that not many people around here had a car and those fancy shops they built were two miles away. No wonder vans like Charlie Taylor’s made a packet, especially when they offered tick. Without that, Maggie wasn't sure how many of her neighbours would make it to the end of the week.

Maggie sighed and took off her apron. She switched off the radiogram just as ‘Music While You Work’ was ending. Sadly for her, the second half of her working day was just beginning.