Having read the letter twice over, Amy went into Jack’s office, where she found pen and paper, and sat down to write her reply:

Dear Rosie,

I’ve got your letter. Thank you.

I can’t say whether I’ll be at the wedding or not, or even if I’d be wanted there; I think not, though it goes without saying that I’m thrilled for Alfie and Molly; I always knew the day would come.

I know I was selfish in what I did, but I was at the end of my tether and could see no other way.

I need to turn a few things over in my mind before I’m sure of myself.

I’ll write to you as soon as I can.

Take care of yourself, Rosie, and please don’t show this letter to Molly. With the wedding looming, and her being so bitter towards me, it would cast a shadow over her special day, and as we both know, I’ve done her enough harm already.

Thanks again, Rosie. It’s so good to have contact.

Love from Amy.

Tucking the letter into the envelope, she sealed it then licked a stamp and pressed it on. ‘I’m sorry it’s such a short letter, Rosie, lass,’ she muttered. ‘Only I have an appointment in half an hour, and to tell you the truth, I’m dreading the outcome.’ She had been in a daze these past two weeks, and now, with the appointment so near, she was all at sixes and sevens.

It took her ten minutes to wash and dress, five to walk down to the tram stop, and the journey to the doctor’s surgery took another ten.

Looking smart in her brown dress and winter coat, and a cheeky little beret pulled over her hair, Amy was at the desk with one minute to spare. ‘Take a seat, Mrs Tattersall.’ The receptionist thought Amy was very pretty.

No sooner had she sat down than she was called into the surgery.

Dr Edmonds was a kind old gentleman, but his news was devastating all the same. ‘From what you tell me, I calculate the date to be September the fourth.’ He went on at great length about her care and well-being, ‘Especially as you are not as young as you once were.’

Amy hardly remembered the tram journey home. All she could think of was Jack’s fear of children. Once inside the confines of the house, she quickly packed her portmanteau, taking only a few of the beautiful things Jack had bought her.

When that was done, she wrote him a note:

Dearest Jack,

I went to see the doctor today. He told me what I had already suspected. I’m having your bairn.

Because of what you told me, I knew you would be filled with horror at the idea of a child in the house. I don’t want to wait until you tell me to go, so I’m leaving right away.

You might think I would go back to Frank, but nothing is further from my mind. My life in Blackburn is finished. Too much water has passed under the bridge. Too much bitterness and blame.

I’ll go where I’ve never been, where I won’t have fingers pointed at me. I’ll make a new life, with our bairn, and may God forgive me.

Thank you for everything, Jack. I have the money you kindly put away in an account for me. The bairn isn’t due until September, so I’ll be able to work and save a little more for when it’s here. I will manage very well, thanks to your generosity,

I wish you even more success in your business, though I know you won’t need it. You always were a born businessman.

I love you, Jack, and I’m so sorry it had to end like this.

Amy.