Donna looked out of the window at the passing water and sighed. The girl carried on talking as if she had answered.

‘My Wayne’s on a twelve-stretch. I could have killed him. Robbed our local Tesco. Course, it was summertime, so he only had a T-shirt on and his tattoos, my name in a heart and the kids’ underneath, were on show. One of me neighbours grassed him up. Not exactly Brain of Britain, know what I mean? Still, as I said to his mum, at least we know where he is!’

She laughed again, a good-natured infectious laugh, and suddenly Donna felt a great urge to cry for this beautiful young woman and her children.

‘Your children are lovely. What are their names?’

The girl pulled her son’s head around and kissed him hard on the mouth. ‘This is Michael Joseph and she’s Chivonne Maria, otherwise known as Micky and ’Vonne. He’s three and she’s six.’ The little girl smiled shyly at Donna, displaying gapped front teeth. It made her look very endearing and vulnerable.

‘They’re gorgeous, and very good. They’ve hardly moved an inch since we boarded.’

The mother winked. ‘That’s because I threatened them with death, pain, torture and destruction before we set out today. But we’ve been doing this once a fortnight for nearly a year now, so they’re quite used to it. They get more attention from their dad when he’s banged up. My name’s Caroline, by the way. What’s yours?’

‘Donna, Donna Brunos. Pleased to meet you.’

Caroline shook Donna’s hand. ‘I saw you today. Your old man’s a bit of all right, ain’t he? Very good-looking. Have you got any kids?’

The question was asked in innocence and Donna, looking into the girl’s open, trusting face, felt once more an urge to cry her eyes out. The ferry docked and Donna stood up, taking Chivonne’s hand and helping Caroline off the ferry with her pushchair and bags.

Outside it was overcast, and a wind was picking up off the sea.

‘I’d better get a cab to the station,’ Caroline said. ‘Nice meeting you anyway, Donna. Probably see you again.’

Donna watched her struggling with the children and the bags, wheeling the pushchair with difficulty while she staggered on impossibly high heels, her narrow back making her look very young.

‘Caroline,’ she called out, ‘where exactly are you going?’

‘East Ham. Want to travel with me?’

Donna walked over to her. ‘No. Let me give you a lift home. We can stop on the way, break the journey for the children, eh? I’m going to Canning Town anyway.’

Caroline’s face was animated with pleasure. ‘You sure now, ’cos these two can be a bit noisy?’

Donna grinned, taking Chivonne’s hand. ‘I’m sure. I don’t have any children myself so consequently, I rather like them. Even if they are noisy!’