Jack’s expression hardened. ‘Still the same old Frank, is he? I’ll lay good money you don’t love him the way you once loved me.’ Guilt showed in his face. ‘Believe me, Amy, I deeply regret the past.’

‘So do I, but it’s all water under the bridge now.’ There was so much to regret, and he was only a part of it. Her voice fell to a whisper. ‘Go away, Jack. Leave me be. Please!’

Jack’s gaze went down the passage, to the children. Huddled together, wide-eyed and scruffy, they looked pathetic. ‘How many are there?’ His quick eyes went to the huge mound beneath her pinafore. ‘Not counting that one?’

‘Four little ’uns and the two older girls. Six altogether.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Might as well be sixty, the way they drive me to despair.’

Horrified, and unable to take his eyes off the army of children, he asked, ‘How do you manage?’

‘I get by.’ She laughed. ‘I don’t know how Frank will cope though, when this one arrives in a month’s time. He doesn’t know one from the other as it is!’ Her laughter faded. ‘He… likes a drink of an evening.’ Seeing Jack’s look of contempt, she was quick to add, ‘He’s no different from any other man in that way.’

Having done his homework, Jack knew her situation and so chose to ignore the comment. Instead, he brought his attention back to the children. ‘Seven in all, eh?’ His eyebrows rose in amazement. ‘Good God, Amy! You’re a glutton for punishment, I’ll say that for you.’

A rush of guilt caused her to turn and smile at the children’s upturned faces. ‘Oh, they’re not bad – as kids go.’

He sensed her warming towards him. ‘I’m really soaked through, Amy. Summer showers are always the most penetrating, I reckon.’ Shivering noisily, he huddled deep into the collar of his coat. ‘A minute or two, that’s all I’m asking. A hot drink and a warm at your fireside, then I’ll be on my way.’ The truth was, he just needed to get his foot in the door.

‘Why should I?’ Forgiveness didn’t come easy.

‘Aw, come on, Amy. For old times’ sake.’ When he pleaded like that, she had never been able to refuse him anything. ‘Besides, I’ve a proposition to make.’ It was his sole purpose for being here. That, and a longing for her that had never gone away.

Her interest was aroused. ‘What sort of proposition?’

‘Let me in and I’ll tell you.’ He winked. ‘I’m not leaving till I say what’s on my mind.’

When she hesitated, he reminded her, ‘Do you remember how I used to sing when I’d had a pint or two… and how you used to try and shut me up? “By! You’ve a voice to wake the dead”, is what you used to say. Well, I can sing when I’m sober, too. If you shut that door on me, I’ll sing so loud the neighbours will all come running. Is that what you want?’