‘Well, what’s he doing down here? Posh sod, let him get back where he belongs.’

Going straight to the fire, Molly rubbed her hands to get the circulation back.

‘What d’yer want anyway?’ Throwing herself into the armchair, Sandra gave a long yawn. ‘Yer as bad as my mam. I told her an’ all… it’s too bloody cold to be running up and down the street.’

Molly glanced at her miserable, dishevelled friend, and she had to smile. ‘Well, good morning, Moll,’ she teased. ‘How the bloody ’ell are yer?’

Surprised, Sandra looked up, the whisper of a smile fleeting across her face. ‘The kettle’s boiled if you want a drink.’

‘No, thanks all the same.’ Sitting down in the chair opposite Sandra’s, Molly confessed, ‘I’ve come for a little talk.’

‘I’m not in the mood for talking.’

‘Well, if it’s all right with you, I shall sit here till you are.’

Sandra gave a cynical little laugh. ‘I don’t need to ask who sent you, do I?’

‘She’s worried about you, Sandra,’ Molly told her. ‘And can you blame her, when you’re coming in at all hours. She doesn’t know where you’ve been or who you’ve been with. You turn up with a black eye and tell her you still want the bloke who did it.’

‘If you’ve come here just to lecture me, you can bugger off. I get enough o’ that from me mam!’ Tucking her legs under her, the girl sat, arms folded against the world.

Shaking her head, Molly pointed out, ‘We both love you, Sandra, but how can we help if you won’t let us near?’

‘I don’t need any help, thanks very much. I wish everyone would mind their own business.’

Molly had never seen her friend like this. ‘You know I’m not here to pry,’ she said. ‘With us being long-time friends, and having shared all our secrets… I just thought you might talk to me where you won’t talk to yer mam. But if you want me to go, I’ll go.’

For a moment Sandra remained sullen. Then, as Molly rose to leave, she tugged at her skirt. ‘Sit down, yer silly cow. Course I don’t want you to go.’

When Molly hesitated, Sandra sat up in the chair. ‘Please, Moll. I didn’t mean to be so grumpy. It’s just that I’ve got a lot on my mind at the minute.’

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

Breathing a sigh, Sandra nodded.

Relieved, Molly sat down again. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Everything!’

‘Such as?’

For what seemed an age, Sandra looked at her. Then, in a small, anguished voice, she said, ‘I’m pregnant.’

Molly’s mouth fell open in astonishment. She recalled the many conversations in which Sandra had sworn to God above that she would never have kids. In fact, she was adamant about it.

Sandra read her thoughts. ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she said, ‘and I ain’t changed me mind. I still don’t want kids. It were an accident, but if it keeps him with me, I’ll put up with the brat.’