Malachi had scowled. ‘And she won’t believe you, Shelagh, that’s why I said it,’ he said, the smile on his face not quite reaching his eyes.

Little Paddy and Nellie had overheard him and Nellie looked so upset at his cheekiness that little Paddy had felt the need to intervene.

‘You don’t deserve any at all, Malachi,’ little Paddy had said, but the other boy had scowled and then delivered a quick kick to little Paddy’s shin.

‘You’re barred from the game,’ Malachi had snarled at little Paddy, who then knew there was no point in him heading back to the bombed-out wasteland that day.

‘Paddy, what are you doing here at this time?’ said Shelagh as little Paddy closed the door behind him. ‘Has your mam sent you to scrub my big pan for me?’ Shelagh smiled down at him, but the smile quickly left her face when she saw the worry etched across his, the tightness of the pale skin across his cheekbones, his eyes wide and concerned.

‘Shelagh, have you seen me mam? She went out ages ago; she said she was going to yours to bring the pram back and she hasn’t come home.’

Shelagh took the cigarettes out of her apron pocket and lit one. ‘Paddy, I haven’t.’ She blew her smoke high into the air. ‘But surely you must have misheard her? There’s a bingo on down at St Cuthbert’s tonight. I bet she’s gone there, eh? Was her hair done, love?’

Little Paddy shook his head; he felt very confused and very scared.

‘When your mam borrowed my pram earlier, she didn’t say what she wanted it for and I didn’t ask; I just said, as long as it’s not for coal, Peg, because our baby’s got to sleep in that pram tonight, and I could do with it back soon. Do you know what she wanted it for?’

Little Paddy didn’t want to betray his mother or lie to Shelagh and so he shook his head again.

‘Tell you what, let’s see if your mam’s put the pram back.’ Shelagh opened the back door, little Paddy following her, and they went into the wash house. Blocking the path to the copper boiler, as it usually was, was Shelagh’s pram. ‘There you go, she’s brought it back and taken off to the bingo, so stop your worrying, Paddy. Honest to God, sometimes you look as though you’re carrying the weight of the world around on your shoulders. Go back home, go on; she’ll be running back up your path with her winnings soon, you mark my words.’

Little Paddy felt relieved; his mam hadn’t lied – the pram was returned.

‘Don’t suppose you want to scrub my pan for me, do you? I can’t with these hands, they’ll be bleeding all night if I do.’