Amber flopped down onto one of the hard-backed chairs pushed against the kitchen table as she watched her mother fill the kettle from the bucket of water she had standing on the long wooden draining board. Once that was done Alice hung the kettle on the hook that was suspended above the fireplace and swung it into the fire to boil and only then did she join her daughter at the table to ask, ‘Well?’

Amber hung her head as tears slid down her cheeks. ‘The thing is, Mam . . .’ she began hesitantly but the words seemed to be sticking in her throat. ‘Th-the thing is . . . I’m goin’ to have a bairn!’

‘Oh, dear Lord!’ The colour drained from her mother’s cheeks like water from a dam as her hand rose to her mouth and different emotions flitted across her face. There was shock and denial but most of all disappointment, for she would never have believed in a million years that her girl would be loose with her favours before she had a ring on her finger. There was more than one lad had already tried to put one there to be fair, and one in particular, but Amber had never shown a vestige of interest in any of them. She’d always insisted that she was too young to be wed, unlike some of her schoolfriends who already had a bairn or two clinging to their skirts. And so for her mother to discover this news now was even more shocking.

‘And are you goin’ to tell me who the daddy is?’ Alice asked, her face as straight as a poker. ‘Cos as sure as eggs is eggs your daddy is goin’ to want to know.’

‘It would be better if I didn’t tell you,’ Amber muttered and raising her head she saw her mother frown.

‘Well, I wouldn’t mind bettin’ it was Bertie Preston, although I never thought you were that keen on him. Or is it that Jimmy that’s sweet on you from up at the house?’

‘It . . . it isn’t either of them.’ Amber’s shoulders were hunched and she looked so miserable that her mother couldn’t help but feel sorry for her even if she did want to clout her round the ear.

‘But who else could it be?’ Her mother knew that the only day off Amber had was on a Sunday and she spent much of that at home with her family. She tutted and stared off into space for a moment before saying, ‘So if it ain’t them, is the father in a position to marry you?’

When Amber shook her head and began to cry, she sighed. ‘Then there’s only one thing for it. Bertie is as keen as mustard so even if the bairn ain’t his you’ll have to let him court you an’ think it is. How many courses have you missed?’