Rosie groaned. ‘Huh! We all know what your dad’s like when he’s had a few,’ she retorted forthrightly. ‘“The drink drives out the man and lets the devil in”, that’s what me mammy used to say.’

Michael chirped in, ‘I hope you’re not tarring us all with the same brush.’ Winking cheekily at Alfie, he said, ‘Like any man, I’m fond of a pint. Sure there’s no harm in that!’

Rosie glared at him. ‘Not for you mebbe, Da, but for some it might as well be poison.’ For years now, ever since their children were small, she and Amy had been the best of friends. It angered her to see what the poor woman had to put up with. ‘My Bill was fond of a pint an’ all,’ she reminded them, ‘and I have to say, in all the years we were wed, drunk or sober, I never once saw him violent!’

Uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going, Molly said her goodbyes. ‘I’ll tell Mam you’ll be along to see her in the morning,’ she told Rosie.

Ashamed that she had let her emotions run away with her, Rosie gave her a hug. ‘Don’t forget to tell her I’ve finished that skirt I promised. She’ll not be able to wear it yet, but it’ll fit her a treat after the babby’s born.’

‘Thanks, Rosie.’ Molly really liked Alfie’s mam. ‘That’ll please her. She’s always on about how she’s looking forward to getting her figure back.’

‘The trouble is, your dad seems to like her better with a big belly.’ The taunt was out before Rosie could stop it. ‘Sorry, darlin’!’

Molly’s bright eyes had shadowed momentarily, then: ‘It’s all right.’ She offered a forgiving smile. ‘Mam has a hard life. Nobody knows that better than me.’

Realising she had touched a raw nerve, Rosie added hastily, ‘Oh, and tell her I’ve a lovely cream-coloured blouse she can have with the skirt. It’ll fetch out the brown in her eyes.’

Thanking her again, Molly followed Alfie to the front door. ‘She didn’t mean any harm,’ he apologised as they walked up the street to the Tattersalls’ home. ‘She’d do anything for your mam, you know that.’

‘I know. But she was right, and it makes me feel ashamed.’

‘You’ve nothing to be ashamed about.’

‘Alfie…’

‘What’s on your mind, sweetheart?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ Glancing up at this tall, well-built young man with his black hair and midnight-coloured eyes, Molly felt privileged as always. There were any number of girls in this street and elsewhere who would have given anything to have Alfie Craig look their way. But he only wanted her, and that was grand.

He gently nudged her. ‘Hey! Don’t look at me like that with them soft blue eyes.’

She laughed. ‘Why not?’

Bringing her to a halt he put his arms round her shoulders. ‘Because you’re turning me to jelly, that’s why not.’ Bending his head to hers, he kissed her tenderly on the mouth, right there in the street. ‘I love you, Molly Tattersall,’ he murmured.