‘What kind of trouble?’ Jack felt very uneasy.

Sparkling with excitement and malice, Lottie whispered, ‘Our dad found out you’d been to the house. He knows you want to take Mam away.’

‘Jesus!’ Jerking away, Jack seemed at a loss for words.

‘There was a big row and, like I say… summat happened.’

Now he was leaning forward again. ‘For Chrissake, Lottie!’

‘If you go to her now, she’ll welcome you with open arms.’ Enticing him further, she revealed, ‘It’s no use going to the house though, ’cos she ain’t there no more.’

Jack really believed at this point that he might find pleasure in strangling her. ‘What d’you mean, she isn’t there? Where the bloody hell is she then?’

‘Somewhere you won’t be allowed in – not without me, you won’t.’

‘Take me there. Now!’

‘Not until I’ve had the rest of my money.’

Realising he might scare her away, he softened his tone. ‘You’ll have your money, I promise you. Just as soon as I see your mam.’

‘All right. But I still want the money, even if she won’t come with you after all.’ Lottie had long ago learned how to cover her back.

He nodded. ‘As soon as I’ve made sure she’s all right, you’ll have your money, whether she comes away with me or not. I promise.’

There was a moment when he feared she might not go along with him, but then she grinned and he knew he was safe. ‘All right,’ she agreed, ‘but if I don’t get the rest of my money, I’ll tell our dad where you are, and he’ll pull your bleedin’ head orf!’

Chuckling, Jack had to admire her. ‘You remind me of myself when I was your age.’ In a more serious tone he warned, ‘There are them as you can trust and them as you can’t. And there’s them as would cut your throat for a shilling. Watch yourself, young ’un. It’s a big, bad world out there. Stay alert, and mind you don’t get sucked in too deep.’

He knew she would not be taught by others. People like Lottie had to learn from their own experiences. Some survived, some didn’t. All he could do for Amy’s child was to offer advice. Whether she took it or not was up to her.

Chapter Four

‘Get me off this bloody bedpan! Me arse is stuck to it!’ The woman’s voice echoed round the maternity ward, alerting the young woman next to her.

‘What’s wrong, Agnes?’ she asked. ‘What’s all the shouting about?’

‘Oh, I’m sorry, lass. I don’t want to spoil yer breakfast, but I’ve finished with the bedpan and the nurse is nowhere in sight.’ The older woman was in her early forties, but had not missed a year without having a bairn. Misshapen and contented, she was now the proud mother of twelve; it would have been fifteen, but she had lost three in their infancy. ‘Only it seems like I’ve been on this bedpan for ever,’ she complained. ‘What’s more, it’s damned cold. I’m in here to have a bairn, not to catch bleedin’ pneumonia.’