Abel Jones watched the proceedings from his window, studying Paddy closely. Then a cab pulled up, and the little one with the red curly hair was kissing them all and getting inside.

He shook his head. There was something funny going on with that family, he’d lay money on it. There was only one place that child would be going in a cab and that was Nellie Deakins’ house.

Rosalee sat at the table and drank her broth, Kerry and Bernadette were putting the finishing touches to their room, and Eileen was making up her parents’ bed. Paddy looked at his wife in the glow of the kitchen fire and, sober for once, he felt a stirring in him. As she tended the fire he saw the roundness of her large breasts, caught a glimpse of creamy skin. She wasn’t a bad looker wasn’t Molly, for all the childbearing. He pulled her down on to his lap, and she laughed as the chair creaked under their weight.

‘Isn’t this a grand place, Moll?’

She smiled and nodded. It was her dream come true. The kitchen was also their living room, but Molly didn’t mind. It meant only one fire. The table and chairs were scrubbed and clean, the mats were down, and the new chair was by the fender for when she wanted to sew or just sit and drink one of her never ending cups of tea. Briony said she was going to get Mrs Horlock to let her have some of the old curtains packed away at Mr Dumas’. She’d fit them to the windows and the place would be like a little palace. She frowned as she thought of Briony.

She allowed Paddy to nuzzle her neck. He pulled her face round and kissed her long and hard, forcing his tongue into her mouth, and Molly, for the first time in over a year, responded. In her happiness at being in the house, she wanted everything to go well.

‘Oh, Mum!’ Eileen, who had walked downstairs, saw them kissing and all the revulsion she felt was in her voice. Molly pulled away from Paddy just as Eileen got to the sink and threw up, retching and hawking with the illness that engulfed her at the disgusting sight.

‘Eileen. Eileen, girl.’ Molly put her arm around her shoulders gently, trying to pull her into her arms.

‘Don’t you touch me, Mum!’ Eileen pointed a finger into her mother’s face. ‘Don’t you ever touch me after you’ve touched him. Not after what he’s done to me and Briony. And who’ll be next, that’s what I want to know? Bernie, Kerry, our Rosalee?’

Rosalee, hearing her name mentioned, clapped her hands together and upset the broth.

‘Bri... Bri.’