‘Now breathe,’ she said, taking four steps backwards away from the crazy lady exploding in the bed.

Can you see me helping, Ma?

She’d be lost without you, Bunny.

Chapter Eighty-Six: Molly

Chapter Eighty-Six

Molly

MOLLY SAID GOODBYE TO Sheila B before she got into a van that would take her back to court.

‘You’re strong, Sheila, and you will get there.’

‘How are you so sure?’

‘Because you want to.’

‘I hope so,’ she said. ‘I’m sick of being a joke.’

‘You’re not, love, and I’m always there if you need me.’

‘Thanks, Mrs H,’ she said, and Molly kissed her gently on the forehead.

Two other women shared the van with her but she didn’t talk with them. She was busy talking to Rabbit.

And I’ll tell you something else, love, the food’s not bad either . . . All in all I’ve stayed in worse places. Do you remember that kip in Blackpool?

Yeah, Ma, Davey got food poisoning and shat everywhere.

That’s right.

She waited her turn and stood up in front of the judge. He was determined to humiliate her, but it’s hard to humiliate a woman who doesn’t care, so after a lengthy lecture, which she smiled through, he told her she was free to go.

‘Thank you, thank you so much, it did me the world of good,’ she said, and as her thanks were genuine she left the man very confused.

‘You’re welcome,’ he stammered as she walked to her husband on air.

She hugged him tight once they were outside the court.

‘I’m back, Jack.’

‘A hundred per cent?’ he said.

‘A hundred and fifty per cent,’ she said.

‘Well, thank eff for that.’ He grabbed her hand. ‘Good news, Molls, Marj is having the baby.’

‘Now?’

‘Right now.’

‘A new baby,’ she said, and suddenly she was tearful.

‘A new Hayes,’ he said, putting his arm around her shoulder.

Isn’t that something, Rabbit?

It sure is, Ma.

Chapter Eighty-Seven: Marjorie

Chapter Eighty-Seven

Marjorie

THE CONTRACTIONS WERE EXCRUCIATING. Marjorie had never suffered from illness. She’d never broken anything or really even cut herself before. Up to now waxing was the most pain she’d ever experienced. She had mentioned it to Molly when they first discussed her pregnancy. She explained how nervous she was because she hadn’t really known physical pain. She asked if she could prepare somehow, and Molly thought about that for a moment before sighing and wiping her hands on her apron.

‘You could shove a grenade up your fanny but it’s not advisable,’ she said, and she made tea and put out some biscuits. Marjorie panicked a little and Molly placed her hands on her shoulders.

‘Or you could be lucky and you could fire it out, not a bother.’

‘Do you really believe that?’