Eddy had just left and given her a jug of beer. She poured some into a tin cup and drank quickly in the hope of getting rid of the disgusting taste he’d left. She hadn’t wanted him to finish in her mouth but he’d forcefully held her head to his manhood and had almost choked her. She had thought of biting down, that would have taught the bugger a lesson, but then he’d have been annoyed with her and wouldn’t have given her the beer. So, with little choice, she’d been compliant, but if he wanted that again, she’d demand gin next time.

‘Hello, Mum,’ Sarah said, sounding subdued as she came in, holding Tommy in one arm and a bunch of rhubarb in the other.

Annie managed a grunt, but she couldn’t be bothered to get into a conversation with the girl. Tommy flashed her a wide smile. The brazen little brat, she thought as she glared at him, and was pleased to see him turn his head and bury it in Sarah’s shoulder.

‘I don’t suppose you’ve had anything to eat, have you, Mum?’ Sarah asked.

Annie didn’t bother to answer.

‘I’ll take that as a no then. I’m making me and Tommy some stewed rhubarb. Do you want some?’

Annie rolled her eyes and shook her head. No, she bloody didn’t want any rhubarb. Just the thought of it made her want to heave.

‘Oh, Mum, you’ve got to eat. You’re so thin, come on, it’ll do you good.’

Here she goes again, Annie thought, her righteous daughter, nagging and mithering as usual. Annie didn’t want to hear it. She scraped her chair back, then grabbed her coat and walked to the front door.

She heard Sarah say, ‘Mum … where are you going?’ but didn’t bother to turn around.

‘Out,’ Annie snapped back. She had enough coins in her purse to visit the pub. She knew she wasn’t welcome in there, but anything was better than sitting indoors and watching her bastard son stuff his face with Sarah fussing over him. If Sarah had dumped the brat when he’d been born she wouldn’t have to keep looking at him. Every time she saw his face, she wanted to punch it in. The little bleeder looked just like his father, and that was a face she’d sooner forget.

Ten minutes later, Annie pushed open the door to the pub and was immediately hit by the smoky atmosphere. She made her way to the bar, ignoring the snide comments from men in flat caps supping on their ales.

‘A large gin, straight, and half a beer,’ Annie said to the landlord.

‘Let me see your money first, Annie,’ the man demanded.

‘You know I’m good for it, Cyril, but …’ She pulled some coins from her purse and slapped them down on the counter.