The doctor shrugged. Mrs Bradley could be a stubborn old devil when she had a mind to be. ‘Very well, but if you have any concerns whatsoever you are to send for me immediately.’ His steely blue eyes stared sternly into her faded grey ones and she nodded, setting her double chins wobbling.

‘O’ course I will, it goes wi’out sayin’,’ she spouted indignantly and following him to the door she saw him on his way before snuggling into the old wing chair at the side of the fire for a bit of a rest. It had been a long day and an even longer night.

*

Two days later, Mrs Bradley opened the door to Ruby’s prospective parents. Despite her initial concerns, the baby seemed to be thriving, which was more than could be said for her mother, who was still hovering between life and death.

The Carters were a middle-aged couple and compared to most folk in the town were very comfortably off as Mr Carter owned his own thriving bakery in Queens Road in the centre of the bustling little market town of Nuneaton. They had approached Mrs Bradley some time before, expressing an interest in adopting a baby boy, but she had no doubt that Rita Carter would take little persuading to accept a girl, especially one as bonny as little Ruby. It was a well-known fact that Mrs Carter had suffered numerous miscarriages throughout the course of their married life and now she was desperate for a child.

‘Come in,’ Mrs Bradley encouraged. ‘The baby I got word to you about is over there, fast asleep in the drawer.’

Rita Carter was a plump, kind-hearted soul and she hurried across the room to peep at the baby. The instant she saw her, tears sprung to her eyes and her face softened.

‘Oh, Stan, come and look at him, he’s just beautiful.’

‘Ah . . . well, that’s the only thing.’ Mrs Bradley looked slightly uncomfortable as Bill Carter raised an eyebrow at her. ‘It’s a little girl. Her name is Ruby, although o’ course, should yer decide to take ’er yer could always change it to a name o’ yer own choice.’

‘But I distinctly told you we wanted a boy to take over the business when I get older.’ Stan looked less than pleased but it was already clear that his wife was quite smitten with the child, judging by the way she was looking at her.

‘Oh, Stan, please just come and look at her!’ his wife implored.

Looking less than happy, he crossed the room to do as she asked. ‘She’s bonny enough, admittedly. But what good will a girl be to us? I thought we’d agreed to wait for a boy who could carry on the family business.’