The candle burned down even further and still there was no sign of the midwife. Mabel was growing weaker and Daisy was close to panicking, but somehow she managed to keep an outward show of calm. And then, just as she was beginning to think that Mabel could bear it no longer, everything happened so quickly that Daisy had no time to be afraid. The tiny, red-faced baby entered the world in a rush, just as Linnet arrived, although there was no sign of the midwife.

‘What do I do now?’ Daisy asked breathlessly.

Linnet handed her a pair of scissors and Mabel, miraculously alert although weak and exhausted, talked Daisy through the process of cutting the umbilical cord and tying it off.

‘You’ve done well, miss. Better than old Annie Maggs when she’s had a skinful.’ Mabel lay back on the pillow, holding the baby in her arms.

‘I couldn’t have done it,’ Linnet whispered. ‘I’d have run away.’

Daisy felt her knees trembling but she managed a smile. ‘You’ve got a lovely baby girl, Mrs Green. What are you going to call her?’

‘If you don’t mind, miss, I’d like to call her after you. What did you say your name was?’

‘It’s Daisy, and I’d be honoured to have the little mite named after me.’ Daisy was deeply touched and she smiled through tears of exhaustion. ‘We’ll make you comfortable and then perhaps you can get some sleep.’ Daisy glanced round the room. ‘Is there a cradle for the baby?’

Linnet drew her aside. ‘We’ll leave the little one with her ma while I take a drawer from the chest. It’s only the rich people who can afford cradles and the like.’

A vision of the nursery in Queen Square flashed through Daisy’s mind and she felt her cheeks redden with embarrassment. She had not meant to sound patronising, but she was only just beginning to understand the gulf between those who had and those who had not. The Greens were definitely from the latter group, and another mouth to feed would only add to their problems. She acknowledged Linnet’s advice with a nod and, having made Mabel comfortable, Daisy went downstairs to comfort the children.

Alfie was alone in room, seated cross-legged on the floor in front of the hearth where the log fire had burned down to little more than ash. He leaped to his feet when he saw Daisy.

‘Is Ma dead? It’s gone so quiet.’

Daisy wrapped her arms around him. ‘Your mum is fine and so is your new sister. I was hoping to make a pot of tea for your mother, or perhaps some hot milk.’

Alfie shook his head. ‘There ain’t no tea, miss. No milk neither. I gave the last of it to the young ’uns before they went to bed.’ He jerked his head to the space under the stairs where the children lay top to toe on a thin mattress, covered by an equally thin and threadbare blanket.