‘The only person around here, other than Tommy Doherty, who could empty this place out early, is your Gladys. I don’t suppose you’d want to send her around at ten tonight, would you? I’ve already tried Father Anthony and that didn’t work; I had to get Jerry Deane to half carry him back to the Priory.’

Eric shook his head. The truth was, he was so scared of Gladys himself, he dared not reply, so instead he said, ‘Get yourself inside, Babs, before you catch your death, and I’ll close the door behind you – go on, now.’

He handed her the crate of milk and pulled the door to, the smile disappearing from his face as quickly as it had appeared. To everyone on the four streets, Gladys and her reputation for ferocity was a source of amusement; to Eric, it was his cross to bear. He loaded the crate of empties Babs had given to him onto the wagon and, stepping back up felt the familiar dip as Daisy Bell readjusted her step to accommodate his weight.

‘Walk on,’ he said as he rested the reins on his knee and retrieved his tobacco tin from his pocket; he pulled out a pre-rolled ciggie and lit up before Daisy Bell pulled back out onto the Dock Road. He rolled five ciggies at the dairy every morning; four were for him and one was for Mrs Maggie Trott on Nelson Street, which was where he took himself for a cup of tea each day. He had known and admired Maggie since before the war and their morning cuppa was the highlight of his day.

He had one call-in before he turned and that was at the Seaman’s Stop, a guest house for sailors. Here, Daisy Bell slowed to a halt without any instruction from Eric. He squinted to see who the woman was, standing outside the sailors’ guest house and was surprised to see that it was Biddy, one of the housekeepers from St Angelus Hospital, fishing around in her holdall outside the door. Next to her, looking nervously around was Mary Malone, Deirdre and Eugene’s eldest.

‘Biddy, what are you doing here?’ he asked. ‘I could have given you a lift, for I delivered to your house half an hour ago.’

‘I know you did, but I missed you. I came running out but you were already gone.’ Eric turned his back to her to remove a crate from the float just as the door to the Seaman’s Stop opened. ‘Oh, Malcolm, there you are, I couldn’t find my keys,’ said Biddy.

Malcolm was wearing striped pyjamas and a dressing gown which had not fastened around his middle since before the war. ‘Morning, Eric, Biddy – I wasn’t expecting you,’ said Malcolm. ‘Oh, hello, Mary, what are you doing here?’