‘Whatever’s going on here, child?’ Rosie’s shocked voice cut through Molly’s insanity, instantly calming her.

‘Oh Rosie, if only you knew!’ She at once began clearing up the mess. ‘Look what I’ve done! Oh dear God, Rosie, what’s to become of us?’

Leading the trembling girl away from the scullery, Rosie took her into the parlour, where she eased her on to the sofa. ‘I think we’d best bathe your arms first,’ she suggested. ‘After that, you might want to tell me all about it, eh?’

Rosie quickly cleared up in the scullery, and after a few minutes came back into the parlour, where Molly had composed herself and was now mortified by what she’d done. ‘Thank God the young ’uns are still fast asleep,’ she told Rosie. ‘I’d never have forgiven myself if they’d seen all that.’

Setting a bowl of water at her side, the older woman chuckled comfortably. ‘Kids’ll sleep through all hell let loose. Whereas me, I wake at the drop of a hat, so I do.’ She had her eyes on Molly’s face and could see the pain there. ‘Whatever made yer do it, lass?’ she asked, serious now. ‘I’ve never seen you like that afore.’

Jumping to the wrong conclusion, she said suddenly, ‘It’s Lottie, isn’t it? She’s gone and got herself pregnant.’

Molly shook her head. ‘No, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she had. She hasn’t been in all night. Honest to God, Rosie, I’m at my wits’ end. Later, when I’ve got the older children off to school, would you mind watching the bairns while I go and look for her?’ Troubles never come singly, she thought cynically.

Rosie agreed without hesitation. ‘If it weren’t Lottie who upset you, it must have been your da,’ she concluded. ‘I saw him go striding down the street, a face like thunder. He left the door ajar. That’s how I got in – I hope you don’t mind?’

‘Course not.’ Dipping her hands into the lukewarm water, Molly washed her arms and dabbed at the wounds with the flannel. When she winced, Rosie explained, ‘I’ve put a measure o’ salt in there. It stings like the very devil, but it’ll heal the skin in no time at all.’

When Molly lapsed into a troubled silence, Rosie wouldn’t let go. ‘What’s happened between you and your da?’ she asked gently. ‘What made you go off the rails like that?’

Molly looked up at her, the enormity of what her mam had done only now beginning to sink in. ‘There’s a letter in my coat pocket,’ she said, ‘hanging up behind the door.’

Going across the room, Rosie reached into the coat pocket and drew out the letter. She then brought it back to Molly and laid it on the arm of the sofa. ‘Is this the one?’

Drying her arms on the towel Rosie had brought, Molly told her, ‘I want you to read it.’

While Rosie sat down to read the letter, Molly carried the bowl into the scullery. She tipped the water down the sink, rinsed the bowl out, then picked up a few small pieces of broken glass that were still lying on the flagstones. That done, she took the mop and bucket from the corner and gave the floor a quick wash over.