‘I’m not going to trouble you with too many questions tonight,’ Ada continued. ‘We’ll get to know each other more tomorrow, but just tell me how you managed to get up here in such a weak state, and with the children in tow?’

Rosie laid down her spoon and repeated what the doctor in London had told her.

‘So, you see, after he told me I might well die, and mi kids would be sent to an orphanage, I had no choice, had I?’

Ada gave a solemn nod just as Ron and Sally burst into the room, both wearing the nursing-home nighties generally used for pregnant patients, which almost drowned them.

‘The water was right hot, mother,’ Ron said as he ravenously eyed the meat-paste sandwiches.

‘Nurse Dora said we’re crawling with nits,’ Sally announced. ‘She put some smelly stuff on our ’eads and she ses she’ll chop our ’air off tomorrow morning.’

Completely unphased, Dora added firmly, ‘The nits will come back if we don’t get rid of the eggs – we need to de-louse you two before everybody in the Home catches them too. If you don’t mind, Sister Ada, I’d better get back to my work on the ward.’

‘Of course, Dora, I’ll be down there soon,’ Ada promised.

As soon as Dora had closed the door behind her, Ron said, ‘She’s a strict old cow.’

‘Ron!’ Rosie cried in shame. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said contritely to Ada, ‘I don’t know where they’ve picked up such bad language.’

Helping himself to a sandwich, which he crammed whole into his mouth, Ron mumbled, ‘On the streets, when we go begging.’

Seeing Rosie blushing with embarrassment, Ada threw her a reassuring smile before she rose to leave.

‘I’ll let you all get some sleep now, but I’d like to see you first thing in the morning, Mrs Pickles, to do some more medical checks, if you don’t mind?’

‘Call me Rosie, lovie,’ the patient replied. ‘First thing is fine with me. Goodnight to you, and thanks for all your kindness to me and mi kids.’

Leaving the ravenous children, now with shiny clean faces, tucking into the pile of sandwiches left for them by Sister Mary Paul, Ada said a sweet ‘Goodnight, God bless’ as she left the room.

The following morning, when Rosie and her brood turned up in the dining room for breakfast, the usual clatter and chatter fell silent as the residents surveyed the scruffy newcomers. It was cocky Ronnie with his cheeky gap-toothed grin and high squeaky voice who broke the ice by pointing to the butter dish in the centre of the table.

‘Blimey, Mother, look at all that bleedin’ butter!’

‘RONNIE!’ Rosie’s anguished cry was drowned out by a loud roar of laughter from the residents.