Returning to the sister’s office, she said heatedly, ‘You had no right to let her out. She’s not well enough.’

‘This is a hospital, not a prison,’ the sister told her patiently. ‘We can’t force anyone to stay against their will. As long as they put their signature to this form, they’re free to leave – although of course we do try to satisfy ourselves they are in no immediate danger.’

‘Oh, and how did you do that in my mam’s case?’ Molly demanded. ‘You didn’t try to reach me, did you?’

‘Look, my dear,’ the sister said kindly, for the girl before her seemed so distraught, ‘your mother wasn’t ill in the true sense of the word. Her injuries were mostly flesh wounds and bruises; there was nothing broken. And although it may sound harsh, we have women in here who lose their baby and go home the following day. Then there are others who need two weeks or more to regain their strength. Your mother is an exceptional woman. Moreover, she was perfectly composed when she asked me to give you your letter.’

‘She isn’t well in her mind. She’s been troubled these past days,’ Molly said desperately. ‘I saw it, why couldn’t you? Instead you let her go without even knowing where she was headed!’ She choked back a sob.

‘Why, your mother has gone straight home, hasn’t she? What’s more, she seemed well enough to leave hospital. You say she was troubled, but it’s quite normal to suffer a measure of grief over a lost baby. You mustn’t worry unduly. Mrs Tattersall is a strong, sensible woman.’

Desperate to get away, Molly bade her goodnight.

The sister called her back. ‘If you’re worried about your mother, perhaps you should contact the authorities.’

‘Why would I do that?’

‘It was just a suggestion.’

Molly forced a smile. ‘I’m sorry if I lost my temper,’ she said. ‘It was just such a shock to come here and find her gone. I expect you’re right… I’ll get home and there she’ll be.’ But she knew different. She had read the letter, and it was clear enough: her mam had no intention of going home ever again.

Molly didn’t go straight home either. Instead she made her way to the nearby park, where she sat on a bench and took out the letter once more.

Three times she read it, looking for a clue as to where her mam could have gone with this man. It seemed so final, so cruel to Molly. Would she ever see her mother again? And what of her future with Alfie? She would never be able to go to America now. And – oh God! – how would she break the news to her siblings? And to Frank? It didn’t bear thinking about.

For the next hour she toured any likely place where she might discover her mother’s whereabouts; no one at the bus station could recall seeing anyone of that description, nor could the ticket clerk at the railway station. ‘I’ve been here all day,’ he grumbled. ‘If there’d been a woman like you mention, I reckon I’d have noticed.’