God didn’t quite answer her prayers; they were held up in Preston, where Sybil’s waters broke all over the carriage floor. Wet through from the waist down, Sybil wondered if she would survive this ordeal. Alone in the carriage but for the children, she was in no position to time her contractions, but she knew for sure they were coming more quickly and lasting longer. Suddenly, when she was at her lowest ebb, Ronnie was at her side, having briefly taken off to remove his sister to another carriage, where a lady with her family said she would look after poor bewildered Sally.

‘Thank God you came back,’ she whimpered.

‘You look properly poorly,’ he murmured.

‘Listen, I need you to do something very important,’ she started. ‘When I give you the signal, can you slowly count to sixty, then count another sixty and another until I give you the signal to stop?’

‘Yeah, why?’ he asked.

‘Just do it, Ronnie,’ she begged.

As the muscles around her uterus tightened, Sybil held up her hand, waiting for it to ease.

‘Now!’

‘1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 …’ Ronnie obediently started.

When the next contraction started up, Sybil turned to Ronnie, struggling to speak through the pain. ‘How many sixties did you count?’

‘Five,’ he replied.

‘Jesus, they’re coming every five minutes,’ she gasped.

‘Shall I get you some more water,’ he enquired.

Gripping his small trembling hand, Sybil cried out, ‘No, Ronnie, please don’t leave me, please stay with me.’

His tough little face contorted with emotion. ‘I’ll stay, don’t worry, I won’t leave you, promise.’

Tears streamed down Sybil’s pale, tense face. ‘I don’t deserve your kindness,’ she blurted out. ‘I was an utter bitch to you and your sister, I completely set you up with the robbery at Mary Vale and had you kicked out of the Home because I wanted to hurt a man who had hurt me. But instead of punishing him, I took it out on two innocent children. I know it was a wicked thing to do. Can you ever forgive me?’ she cried.

‘Shhh, don’t get so worked up,’ the little boy soothed. Seeing the sweat breaking out on her brow, he handed her the water he had fetched. ‘Drink,’ he urged. ‘Try to relax.’

Sybil had no choice but to stop talking – in the grip of yet another contraction, she was way beyond words.

‘Start counting, Ronnie,’ she told the anxious lad, as it came to a welcome stop.

‘How many this time?’ she asked when the next one started.

‘That was three sixties,’ Ronnie informed her, as she lay back weak and sweating, then added, as if she didn’t already know, ‘It looks like the pains are coming faster now.’