The man at the local taxi firm, who served the infirmary, told her assuredly, ‘Sorry, luv, I can’t help you.’

Molly cursed Jack Mason, and cursed her mother, and cried at her going. Through all of it, her heart ached with the worst pain she had ever experienced.

After the tears came the anger. ‘I’ll never forgive you for what you’ve done, Mam,’ she muttered. ‘Not as long as I live!’

Hardening her heart, she thrust the letter into her coat pocket, and made her way back to Victoria Street. Tomorrow, when she’d had more time to think, she would decide what to do.

Chapter Eight

After putting the children to bed, Molly dozed in a chair, the letter lying open in her lap. She had read it over and over.

The truth was, she found it hard to believe that her mam could just run away and leave her children. She had so wanted to confide in Rosie, but when she got home, that dear soul was in a rush to get back to her own home and cook the men’s dinner, and so there was no opportunity.

Alfie had been round, and they’d talked once more of his plans, and their future, and Molly found she didn’t have the heart or courage to show him the letter. Instead, she smiled and chatted while inside, her heart was broken.

As usual, her dad hadn’t come home from work, and in the silence of the little parlour, Molly cried many tears. Which way to turn? What to do? She couldn’t think straight any more.

In the small hours she woke with a fright. ‘Who’s there?’ she gasped. Sitting bolt upright in the chair, she gathered her senses and glanced through bleary eyes towards the doorway, relaxing when she saw that it was Frank, come home at long last. Villain or not, at least he was a familiar face and one which she was surprisingly pleased to see. ‘Oh, it’s you, Dad!’

Her relief at seeing him didn’t last long though, not when she saw what he’d brought home.

‘What the devil are you doing up this time o’ the morning?’ Unsteady on his feet and with a woman curled in his arm, Frank Tattersall staggered across the room. ‘Get yerself off to bed!’

Ignoring him, Molly’s glance went to the woman; tall and skinny, with bleached hair and made-up eyes, she had seen better days.

‘Did you go in to see our mam?’ Molly asked him straight out. She wondered if he already knew that his wife had run off with her fancy man!

He answered with a snarl. ‘Been to see ’er? Have I heck as like. Right now, yer mam’s neither use nor bloody ornament to me. Had me thrown out of that ’orspital like I were a bloody criminal, she did.’

He turned to fondle the woman’s breasts. ‘Besides, why would I want to see yer mam, when I’ve got the pick of any woman on the streets?’ He began undoing her blouse, at the same time telling Molly, ‘You clear off… unless you’ve a mind to stay and watch.’