Looking down the ward, she began yelling again until, redfaced and flustered, the nurse hurried to her bedside. ‘Now then, Agnes, what’s the matter with you? You know very well we’re short-staffed and I’m having to serve breakfast on my own. If you keep yelling and screaming like that I’ll have to put you in a side ward, where you can’t disturb anybody.’

‘It’s not my fault if you’re short-staffed.’ Agnes was not easily intimidated. ‘I’ve been on this bedpan so long, my arse has gone to sleep.’

Expertly slipping the bedpan out, the nurse quietly confided, ‘I’ve been busy with Mrs Tattersall.’

‘What, the emergency, you mean?’ Peering up the ward, to where Amy lay pale and seemingly lifeless, Agnes respectfully lowered her voice. ‘Is the lass all right?’ Riddled with shame, she was made to realise how her own complaint was a trivial thing in comparison to Amy’s ordeal.

The nurse was grateful for Agnes’s change of mood. ‘You know it was panic stations when she was brought in earlier – well, she’s lost the bairn, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh, I’m really sorry to hear that.’ She noticed the young woman sitting beside Amy, so quiet and pretty. ‘Is that her daughter?’

The nurse confirmed it. ‘Her name’s Molly. She wouldn’t leave her mam’s side, not even for a minute.’ Lowering her voice again, she admitted, ‘I don’t mind telling you, there was a moment or two when I thought we’d lost both mother and child.’

Mortified, Agnes slid beneath the sheets. ‘I’m sorry to be such a nuisance,’ she apologised, ‘only me arse is that fat it tends to get wedged if I’m left too long on the pan.’ She grinned. ‘Never mind, eh? I’m right as ninepence now, so go about your business, dearie, and you’ll not hear another peep out of me.’

The nurse nodded. ‘Thank the Lord for small mercies,’ she murmured, walking away at a rapid pace. She knew from past experience, however, that despite her good intentions, it wouldn’t be too long before Agnes was yelling for attention once more.

Emotionally drained, Molly had remained by her mother’s side throughout. She had seen it all and was devastated by it. ‘I’m sorry, Mam,’ she murmured. ‘I wish we hadn’t lost the little fella.’

Weary and contrite, Amy gazed up at her. ‘It’s a strange thing, lass,’ she replied softly, ‘but you see, it’s as though…’ Shrugging, she fell silent, the tears brimming in her eyes but never falling.

Concerned, Molly took hold of her mother’s hand. ‘What are you trying to say, Mam?’

It seemed an age before Amy answered. ‘The bairn… me… everything.’ Looking down, she absent-mindedly twined the bedspread round and round between her fingers. ‘Oh, love! Isn’t it wicked, the way life plays tricks on us all?’ Choking back the tears, she turned away. ‘Pay no attention to me,’ she urged. ‘Go on home now. You look beat.’

‘Rosie’s looking after the young ’uns. Besides, I’m going nowhere yet,’ Molly persisted. ‘You started saying something, Mam. If there’s summat troubling you, it might help to talk about it.’