Rosie clasped his hand in hers. She had a particular reason for wanting these two to get back together again, though she prayed Molly would never know her part in all of this. ‘Go and fetch her,’ she whispered. ‘She’s waiting for ye, so she is.’

After he’d gone, she watched through the window. She saw him wipe his face, then draw away in the car, and she muttered under her breath, ‘Be happy.’

Then, going to the chair, she gathered the wedding dress in her arms and took it with her down the street to Molly’s house.

As arranged, Molly was up and about, so excited she couldn’t keep still. ‘They’re all asleep,’ she told Rosie, and there were stars in her pretty eyes.

‘Try it on, darlin’.’ Rosie handed her the dress. ‘I’ve taken the waist in. It should fit a treat now.’

‘We’d best go in the front room, just in case they wake up and come down,’ Molly told her. ‘I don’t want anyone to see it till the day.’

While Molly ran to the front parlour with her precious dress, Rosie went to the scullery. ‘There’s nothing like a fresh brew to gather your wits, especially when there’s a wedding in the making.’

She winked in the mirror. ‘Or mebbe two!’

Chapter Twenty Three

Molly came out of the house to a crowd of onlookers. The gown had them gawping with admiration; a slim shift of white linen, with sewn-on roses at the shoulders and a neck that showed her small shoulders to perfection, it clung to Molly’s every dainty curve.

‘Look at that!’ one woman cried. ‘I’d give owt to have had a frock like that when I were wed! Instead o’ which I were big as a bleedin’ ship with me first, and wearing a smock like the farmer in Pleasington.’

Everyone laughed, including Molly herself. Rosie glowed with pride, for the dress was the result of her painstaking handiwork. But it was Molly’s loveliness that really had them gasping.

Unlike her mother when she was young, Molly had never been a raving beauty, but she looked like a real princess today. In that beautiful dress, with her hair swept back to take the silken headpiece, and the short, bouncy veil around her pretty face, she was every man’s dream bride, and every woman’s inspiration.

As she waved and smiled, her eyes shone like diamonds, and her heart sang with joy. ‘Yer look lovely, lass!’ Maggie had waited for an hour to see her come out. Others shouted their good luck, and told her, ‘God bless yer, lass. You deserve the best.’ And Molly knew that, in Alfie, she had the very best.

Outside the church, the long black car drew up and the crowd surged forward. The car had cost Frank Tattersall half a week’s wages; it was his wedding present to the couple.

Her dad got out first. ‘You look grand, lass,’ he said, flushing with embarrassment.

When they walked down the aisle, Frank took Molly by the arm, and the pride on his face was there for all to see. Behind them came Milly and Bertha in their little pink frocks, and Georgie, bringing up the rear in a grey suit made by Rosie; he looked uncomfortable with all eyes on him as he passed by. Lottie and Dave stood watching from a pew on the bride’s side of the church.