Now, on this fine morning, he raised his hand in greeting to Kathleen, who for a woman of her age walked with a youthful stride. Plump, with her white hair concealed in curlers beneath her hairnet, she looked over to Eric with a cheerful smile and, as she raised her hand in response, Eric felt washed over with shame at Gladys’s words and disappointment that he had married a woman who could think such things about a hard-working, clean-living family like the Dohertys.

Mrs Trott was Eric’s first stop on Nelson Street and she was at the door, waiting. He had no need to pull on the reins; Daisy Bell drew to a halt of her own accord.

‘Morning, Eric. Not a moment too soon, I’m spitting feathers waiting for me tea – I used the last of what I had on yours.’

Eric slipped from the seat and, dropping the reins, walked over to collect his steaming hot cup. This had been their routine since he had returned from the war. Mrs Trott took the few steps from her doorway to Daisy Bell, holding the palm of her hand out flat with a sugar lump for the mare. She patted her on the neck and ran her fingers through the long, well-combed mane.

‘There you go, good girl,’ she said and moved back into the doorway, pulling her cardigan across her chest to protect her against the breeze lifting up from the Mersey. ‘She’ll have my hand one day,’ she went on as she took a handkerchief from a pocket and wiped the sticky sugar residue from her palm. Her wire curlers protruded from the front of her headscarf and there was not a scrap of powder or paint on her face but it occurred to Eric that she was one of the few women he met on his round who, despite the early hour, still appeared glamorous at the start of the day. Her twinkling blue eyes and her full lips hinted at a generous and caring nature. ‘I don’t know why you gave that horse a cow’s name,’ she complained as Eric leant against the wall and sipped his tea.

He grinned over the rim of the cup. ‘You’re losing your marbles, you are. You said the same thing to me yesterday. Nice cuppa…’ He held the cup up in a mock salute. ‘Me losing my marbles, you say that every day, too.’

She chided him gently. ‘One day, Eric, I’ll sleep in and then maybe you might appreciate the sacrifice I make, getting up every morning to look after you two.’

Eric’s heart swelled with pleasure; Maggie always included Daisy Bell whenever she referred to him and it gave him an inordinate amount of pleasure.