Rosie chuckled at her daughter’s antics. Then the chuckles became tears and she softly sobbed, the picture pressed close to her heart, and her heart so crippled with pain she could hardly bear it.

Slightly inebriated, yet sober enough to have come in without waking the children, Frank found her sitting at the foot of the stairs bent over the picture and sobbing uncontrollably. ‘Hey!’ He went over to her. ‘Come on, Rosie. What’s all this, eh?’

Ashamed to have been found like that, especially by Frank, she stood up. ‘I’ll go now,’ she murmured. ‘Molly’s asleep. The children, too.’ Looking up at him now, seeing the compassion in his dark eyes, she realised how, by hurting Amy he had hurt Molly and the rest of his children. He had indirectly separated Alfie and Molly, driven Lottie away, and now, when it was all too late, he had begun to mend his ways.

Suddenly, to Frank’s astonishment, she was beating at him with her fists, not shouting or accusing, but still sobbing wildly. Grabbing her by the wrists, he drew her to him. ‘Ssh now!’ He wiped her tears and looked down into her stricken face, and something happened between them; a feeling, a certain loneliness, connected them. Whatever it was, it had them holding each other, unable to let go.

When the kiss came, it began nervously, and then a flood of emotion overwhelmed them and they were kissing with a passion that neither of them had ever felt before.

Shocked and uncertain, Rosie pushed him away. ‘NO!’ Her face was stark white. She shook her head and fled down the passage. At the front door, she glanced back to see Frank staring at her, his dark eyes frowning, hands at his sides and a look of confusion on his face.

Molly’s voice broke the spell. ‘Rosie?’ The parlour door opened and she popped her head out. ‘Dad!’ She hadn’t realised. ‘Where’s Rosie?’

‘She’s gone,’ he said flatly, and began to make his way up the stairs.

‘Your dinner’s in the oven,’ Molly called after him.

But he wasn’t listening. He had suddenly realised that the slight attraction he’d always felt for Rosie Craig was not just a fancy. Holding her close to him just then, lost in that wonderful kiss, had confirmed it.

At his age, when he had made a mess of his marriage and let his kids down, he had fallen in love. ‘Bloody ridiculous!’ he muttered. ‘A bloke like me doesn’t fall in love.’

Rosie was experiencing the same disturbing feelings. Her late husband had been her one and only love. In all this time she had never wanted any other man, not in a serious way. And certainly not a man with the reputation of Frank Tattersall!

Now though, she had been swept into his arms, and to a place she had never thought to be. The truth was, in that wonderful, intimate moment, she had realised something quite shocking.

Somewhere in her heart, she had opened a door. Frank Tattersall had made his way in, and now she couldn’t seem to get him out.