Sowerbutt handed her a small packet.
“Something for your wedding, Annie. Nylons, they call them. Only went on sale
Stateside a few months ago. I’ve got one for Polly and one for your wedding.”
Turning to Pop, he said:
“We’ll make a killing. Got them off a Yank sailor on one of the
neutral boats. We’re going to establish a regular supply - well, as regular as you can these days. Sell them in
the West End at four times the New York price.”Annie was speechless, staring at the nylons, then she burst into tears and threw her arms around Sowerbutt and kissed his stubbly cheek. “Oh, Mr Sorbay, you are so kind to Pop and me. I shall be the happiest girl in the Smoke wearing these on my wedding day. I’ve read about them in the magazines."
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