Briony laughed out loud.

‘What else are children for? She’s only three, Delia, she doesn’t really understand right and wrong yet. Give the child time!’

It was said lightly but Delia was aware of her aunt’s controlled anger. She couldn’t bear to see a child smacked, it completely threw her. Delia wondered how Briony would have been if she had had to live as Delia did, in a high rise flat with a man who was no good whatsoever.

She stifled this thought. They had all warned her about Jimmy Sellars and she should have listened. Now, after refusing all their offers of help, she was tied to a man whose sole occupation in life was getting stoned, listening to Hendrix, and having sex, preferably with everyone else but her. The worst of it all was she still loved him. Was, in fact, besotted by the bugger. This fact never ceased to amaze her. Knowing what he was, she still wanted him.

So much for this new permissive society.

Her old Auntie Briony was more permissive, what with her bloody ‘houses’ and her other nefarious businesses. She loved her Auntie Briony though, she did. Even at her advanced age, in her sixties now, Briony still looked good. Her hair did not have to be dyed, which amazed everyone; her face, lined as it was, still looked youthful. Her slim figure had not an ounce of spare fat on it. Delia looked down at her own overweight body and sighed. It wasn’t fair really. Even her own mother looked better than she did, but she had had her face done. Face and breasts, at her age! It was embarrassing.

She watched Briony kiss Faith and smiled. The child was so loved by everyone. She was glad. Briony took the child’s little hand in hers and kissed the fingers greedily, making Faith laugh. Then Delia saw her aunt frown. Pushing up the child’s cardigan, she revealed a large purple bruise.

‘How the hell did she come by that?’

Delia heard the outrage in her aunt’s voice and shook her head dismissively. ‘You know what children are like, she caught it in the bars of the cot.’

‘It’s about time you put her in a bed then, Delia! Christ, that looks painful.’ Briony looked at the little girl on her lap and said sweetly, ‘Is my baby hurting, my poor little Faithey?’

Faith grinned her best grin and Briony kissed her once more, hugging her tight. Delia relaxed. That had been a close one all right.

Too close for comfort.