‘Jesus, Jack, get a hold of yourself, man,’ Ben hissed, holding him firm. ‘They’ve called the police, get the hell out of here while you can.’ Ben half-dragged, half-carried him up the length of the bar, stunned drinkers parting like the Red Sea before Moses. Mickey Jones grabbed onto a table and dragged himself to his knees, his wheezing voice raised in insults as he explored his damaged face with bloodied fingers.

Ben didn’t release Jack until the pub door had swung shut behind them. As soon as the warm smog hit him, Jack wrestled himself free and stumbled sideways, reaching out to steady himself on the outside wall. Ben stood behind him, his expression grim.

‘What the hell, Jack! I reckon you would have killed him.’

‘I wish I had,’ Jack hissed, flexing his raw knuckles. Tears pricked his eyes. ‘He killed our Jenny.’

‘What are you talking about? Jack, for God’s sake – what’s happened?’

Jack shook his head, his throat constricted against a surge of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. ‘Some backstreet abortionist did a hatchet job on her. She’s dead, man.’

‘Jesus … I’m so sorry.’ Ben groped for understanding. ‘But Mickey?’

‘Knocked her up and wouldn’t stand by her. Her blood is on his hands.’

‘Christ, Jack.’ Ben rested a cautious hand on his friend’s shoulder. ‘I don’t know what to say, I can’t believe it. I’m sorry about your Jenny, she was a fine pleasant girl. You’ve given Mickey Jones what he had coming to him … But it’s time to go home now, Jack. Go back to your mam … sort things out for Jenny. There’s no more you can do here.’ Jack wiped the back of his hand across his eyes. ‘Look, I’m off on the trains tonight, but I’ll be back tomorrow. I’ll come over, we’ll down a pint or two.’

‘Aye, you’re a good pal, Ben,’ Jack muttered at last. A drinker left the pub. Noise spilt out into the street as the door opened and was cut off as it closed. Jack rubbed his chin. ‘You’re working tonight then?’

‘Aye. Heading south from the depot on a midnight wagon run.’ Ben glanced at his watch. ‘Listen, man, I’ve got to get on. Will you be all right now?’

‘Aye … reckon I will. Thank you, Ben.’

Ben clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Get back to your mam, Jack,’ he called as he headed down the street.

‘Aye,’ Jack murmured.

But he didn’t go home.