‘You never would listen, would you?’ Blinking away the tears, she gave a half smile. ‘D’you remember the day when you said you could see the cheeks of my bum up the ladder? I knew you were lying, you little blighter, but after that, I was always wary going up the ladder.’

In her mind she went over the last time she and Sandra had been together, when she had warned her about chasing after this fella of hers. Molly would never forget how Sandra had smiled then, in that serene, assured way, so unlike her. ‘I love him,’ she said. ‘Like you love Alfie.’

Remembering was too painful; it was too soon. Her tears rising, she gave up a prayer for her friend. ‘Look after her, Lord. Sometimes she was mischievous, and maybe she was too easily led. But she had a good heart, and she never hurt anyone. I’ll miss you, Sandra,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll miss your endless chatter and your teasing, and the way—’

Her voice broke. ‘Why didn’t you listen? Why did you have to go after him? Oh Sandra, if only…’

When she could no longer bear to think about it, she turned and ran from the churchyard, through the gate and down the path. Straight into Alfie’s arms.

He was as startled as Molly. ‘Are you all right?’ When he put his hands on her shoulders, she felt the warmth trembling through her.

Too choked to speak, she merely nodded, her heart pumping thirteen to the dozen. Rosie had said Alfie would be here, but Molly hadn’t seen him in the church.

Even without her asking, he explained, ‘I missed my connecting train. It made me late.’ His troubled gaze went over her shoulder to the churchyard. ‘I didn’t miss the service though.’ His face twitched into a sad little smile. ‘The vicar described her so beautifully, don’t you think?’

Molly glanced back, following his gaze and knowing how devastated he must feel. Still hurting, she didn’t know how to console him. Instead, she reached up with both hands and laid them over his. For a wonderful, heartbreaking moment they remained like that, he loving her so much he couldn’t tell her, and Molly, wanting to go, wanting to stay.

The moment passed and she nodded her head and went quickly down the path. When she paused at the bottom to look back, he was on his knees to Sandra, his head bowed and hands clasped.

Never had Molly seen him so vulnerable. Except, of course, for that other awful moment, when she had told him she didn’t want to wed him any more.

Outside the church, neighbours and strangers alike said what a lovely service it was and how sorry they were about Sandra. ‘A bonny lass,’ said one. ‘Her own worst enemy,’ said another, ruefully, ‘but the street won’t be the same without her, poor lass.’

Afterwards, the little party made their way back to Victoria Street; Michael and Rosie in front, then came Molly, everyone lost in their own private thoughts.