Amy shook her head. ‘No, lass, I can’t go to my bed. I’ll just sit here awhile and catch my breath.’

Molly knew better than to argue with her. ‘Right then,’ she said, rubbing her hands together. ‘What’s to be done?’

Relieved, Amy told her, ‘I’ve made him a meat pie – it’s baked to a turn; there’s cabbage and taters keeping warm on the hob, and it’ll only take a minute to make the gravy. He likes it fresh and hot, does your dad.’ She gave a smile, but it was a sad little thing, never reaching her eyes. ‘All it needs now is for me to strain the cabbage water into the meat juices, and stir it together with a pinch of raising flour. Oh, and the table needs setting.’

Before going into the scullery, Molly had more to say. ‘Our Lottie really upset you, didn’t she, Mam?’ There was something about her mother that she couldn’t put her finger on. ‘Happen I should have a word with her.’

‘No, lass, don’t do that. It were summat and nowt. It’s my fault anyway. I palmed young Eddie off on her, and he’s such a handful I’m not surprised she was put out.’

‘And is that what all this is about? Because you asked Lottie to keep an eye on Eddie? She didn’t want the responsibility, so she threw one of her famous tantrums?’

‘Like I said… it were summat and nowt.’ Ashamed, Amy stared into the fire. Never in her life had she lied to her eldest daughter. In fact, ever since she was twelve years old, Molly had been more of a best friend to her than a daughter. Funny, she thought, Molly was the only child who didn’t belong to Frank, and yet she was the only one she really loved. It was a shocking thing to say, but it was true, God forgive her.

Molly rolled up her sleeves. ‘You sit there until I’ve got it all ready to serve up,’ she ordered. ‘I might as well set the table, too, while I’m at it.’

Too worn out to argue, Amy settled back in the chair. ‘You’re a good lass,’ she said, closing her eyes with a sigh.

Molly’s answer was a cheeky wink. ‘I’ll tell you what though,’ she said, bustling into the scullery. ‘Before I look to feeding his face, I’ll make you a brew.’ One swift glance caught the strain on Amy’s countenance. ‘You look as if you need it.’

Chapter Three

Half past ten came and went, and still Frank Tattersall wasn’t home. ‘I expect he’s gone off somewhere with his drinking cronies.’ Amy had seen it all before. ‘Gone gambling, I dare say. Wasting more money.’

For the next hour, she snoozed in the chair and Molly sat with her. When Amy woke with a start, Molly insisted on her going to bed. ‘I’ll wait for him,’ she promised. ‘It’ll be all right.’ And Amy was too weary to argue.