Molly knew what she was trying to say. ‘You’re telling me I should go with him, aren’t you?’ she asked. ‘You think we should go to America… let him try for the big-time, and if it doesn’t work out, you reckon he’ll be done with it?’

‘Sure, you must do what yer heart tells ye.’ Rosie felt ashamed. ‘Aw, I’m sorry, lass. I’m putting the fear o’ God in ye, so I am. When all’s said and done, it should be your decision, without me poking me nose in.’

Taking hold of the woman’s two hands, Molly held them tight. ‘No, Rosie, you do right,’ she said. ‘I’m glad you told me, because if he goes to America, I mean to be with him.’

Relieved, the Irishwoman laughed aloud. ‘When he’s hit the big-time, and earned his fortune, and you’ve a dozen childer round yer arse, he’ll not want the fighting any more, you’ll see. By then, he’ll have got it out of his system.’

‘Happen.’ Just like Rosie, Molly could only hope.

Peering up, her future mother-in-law asked tentatively, ‘Did you mean it, love? You really will go with him? Are ye sure?’

‘There’s only one thing I’m sure about, Rosie, and it’s this: I can’t let him go without me!’

Throwing her arms round the girl’s neck, Rosie screeched for joy. ‘I knew it!’ she cried. ‘One side o’ the world or the other, there’ll be no keeping youse two apart.’

Just then, Molly caught sight of the clock. ‘Oh my God, I’d best get off or me mam will think I’m not coming.’

Wrenching herself away, she grabbed her jacket from behind the door. ‘I’ve switched Dad’s dinner off,’ she said angrily. ‘If he can’t get home at a decent time, he doesn’t deserve a decent meal. Things have got to change round here and they might as well start now.’

‘Don’t you worry about him,’ Rosie chided. ‘Just you leave Frank Tattersall to me. Get away now, and give Amy my love.’

Before rushing out the door, Molly called out, ‘If Lottie gets back before I do, tell her she’s to stay up. Me and her need to have a talk!’ Molly believed there was still time to save her sister from going bad altogether.

It was the third time Lottie had been on the Waltzer. ‘So you’ve money to burn, have you?’ The tall, gangly young man collected her payment, at the same time leaning over her shoulder and looking her in the eye. ‘Is it the sight of me that thrills you, or is it the thrill of the ride?’

‘Huh!’ Lottie had achieved what she wanted. At last she had caught his eye. ‘Got a high opinion of yerself, ain’t yer?’ Though the insult was meant, her laughing eyes told another story.

‘Cheeky devil!’ Brash and confident, he smiled into her face, his hand touching her hair, making her shiver with delight. When Lottie smiled back, his sharp eyes caught sight of the notes protruding from her jacket pocket. ‘Where did you get all that money, eh?’ Now he was even more interested.