The mare kicked up her heels and trotted on at a spanking pace, obviously knowing her way home, and Harry let her be. Turning up his collar, he glanced about him, observing the former village and thinking that this area might also be a decent place to live, even though there was much activity along the riverside with factories and other industrial units in the process of being built.

But Queen’s Road, he mused, that’s still a country district. Our bairns could fish for tiddlers and sticklebacks in the stream, and there were some cottages there that mebbe … well, who knew, there might be one for rent. Ellen would like that; it would feel almost like country but be only a mile or two to walk into town. Yes, he thought. I’ll definitely look into that.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Ellen was nauseous on the Sunday morning, so Harry gave the children their breakfast. Unfortunately, the porridge was burnt because he hadn’t stirred it in the pan, and then, having excused them from eating it, he burnt the toast too and tried to cover up the charred parts with jam.

‘Oh, you’re useless, Dada,’ Sarah sighed as she cut off the black bits.

‘I know,’ he whined in a pathetic voice that made the children laugh, but then Sarah added, her brown eyes wistful, ‘I didn’t really mean it, Dada. You’re not really useless, but you can’t cook like Ma can!’

He said he’d take them out for a walk whilst Ellen stayed in bed for another hour. He helped them to dress and then said, ‘I know, let’s go and visit the Boscos.’

‘Yes,’ Sarah and Mary cheered, but Thomas said an emphatic ‘No!’

‘A ride on my shoulders?’ Harry wheedled and eventually Thomas was persuaded into his coat and the new Christmas bonnet that covered his ears. A scarf was wound around his neck and they set off, leaving Ellen in bed and feeling guilty for being so.

I’m used to morning sickness, she thought as she snuggled down under the blankets, but this is different and I couldn’t describe it if I tried. I really must find a midwife, but who should I ask? Mebbe the baker might know; she seems to know most folk. Plenty of time, of course, but mebbe I should start asking now. Thank goodness it’s Sunday and Harry is home. How lucky I am that he’s able to look after the children; not all men can, or do.

Harry kept the children out as long as he could, but the Boscos were not in when he knocked, so they walked on as far as the graveyard and the children ran around. Then they came slowly back, walking by the river which was as high as the top of the bank, collecting kindling and watching men and boys fishing. Harry remembered again that he’d forgotten about the fishing rod.