Molly pushed her back against the pillows and stared into her face. ‘You’re what?’

Briony nodded, her little face streaming with tears.

‘Dear God in heaven, save us!’

Briony threw herself into her mother’s arms, a child once more despite the life inside her. Suddenly, faced with her mother, the enormity of what had happened over the last few days hit her.

‘Me poor dad. Me poor dad. I want me dad.’

Molly held her close, fear replacing the anger and shock. All she needed now was Briony to blurt out the whole sorry business with Eileen and her da.

‘Hush now, Briony. You’re not ever to tell about that. Promise me?’

She looked into the fear-filled face. ‘Promise me, Briony?’

‘I promise, Mum. Oh, what am I gonna do?’

‘We’ll think of something, Briony, I promise you.’

As she spoke Mrs Horlock brought them all in tea and for the first time the two women came face to face.

‘Mrs Cavanagh.’

Molly curled her lip in distaste at the older woman, who was to her mind no better than Nellie Deakins.

‘Mrs Horlock.’

The old woman gave Briony her tea and, looking at Molly, said gently, ‘I think me and you should have a talk.’

Molly nodded, running her tongue around her teeth. ‘I think we better had. The sooner the better, to my mind.’

Both women having established exactly what they thought of the other through a few choice words, they retired from Briony’s bedroom and went down to the kitchen for the first battle between them.

It was a battle neither could win without Briony’s say so, but they enjoyed it nonetheless.

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Henry Dumas had been watching his wife carefully during the meal. As usual the table was impeccably laid. In fairness to her, he conceded, Isabel really was an exemplary wife in some respects. The crystal gleamed, the cutlery was of the very best, and the food was well above par. Once Isabel lost these notions she had begun to acquire, she would once more be his meek and obedient wife.

He had just taken a slice of apple pie when his wife spoke to her mother loudly.

‘Mama, are you still working in the East End? I understand they have just opened another home for wayward girls there?’

She glanced at Henry as she spoke and then looked immediately back to her mother.

Venetia Barkham nodded.

‘Yes, God knows they’re more in need than ever. Some of the girls are only twelve or thirteen.’ She lowered her voice as she leant across the table towards her daughter. ‘It’s a scandal, Isabel, what some men will do!’

Lord Barkham, who approved of his wife’s charitable works because she mixed with the cream of the aristocracy, nodded sagely.