She carefully moved Tommy over on the bare mattress, hoping it wouldn’t disturb him. Then she lay down next to him and stared at him in awe before closing her eyes.

She gently pulled him close to her. ‘I’ll protect you,’ she whispered, all the time worried her mother would wake up and snatch the child away.

Chapter 3

Annie had never felt so rough. She was sore down below and ached all over. This was one of the worst hangovers she’d ever had. She squinted against the daylight as she opened her eyes. A stiff drink would sort her out, she thought, then remembered with horror – she’d given birth.

Her head was thumping, but she managed to push herself up and saw Sarah sat at the table. To her disgust, her daughter was holding the baby and looked to be bottle-feeding him.

‘I thought I told you to get rid of him,’ she snapped.

Sarah didn’t answer but, to Annie’s surprise, she saw her daughter throw her a look of disdain.

‘So what’s he still doing here?’ Annie demanded.

‘Mum, I can’t get rid of him. It ain’t that easy.’

‘Of course it bloody is! If you’d gone out last night when it was dark, like I told you to, you could have thrown him over Battersea Bridge and no one would have seen you.’

Annie saw her daughter’s eyes widen in shock. The stupid little goody-two-shoes, she thought.

‘I couldn’t do that! It would be murder! I thought you was kidding last night. Mum, how could you? Tommy’s your child!’

‘Tommy, eh. So you’ve given the bastard a name. Don’t get too attached. I’m telling you, he ain’t staying!’ Annie said, and lay back down on the mattress.

‘Please, Mum, I’ll look after him. You won’t have to do a thing. Look, I’ve got him some clothes and nappies … Please …’

Annie rolled her eyes and heaved a deep breath. She didn’t want to be thinking about it. She could feel dried blood on her legs, so she’d have to get up and wash herself down. Bugger, she thought, as she realised she’d be out of action for at least a week. That would make it difficult to get her hands on any booze, and a bottle of gin took priority over a bastard baby.

‘Do what you want, Sarah, just keep the bloody thing out of my sight, and don’t expect me to feed it,’ she answered dismissively. The sooner her milk dried up, the better, she thought, as she glanced down at her engorged breasts. She’d have to be extra careful in future and avoid any more unwanted pregnancies. After all, a swollen stomach wasn’t good for business and was taking its toll on her body.