‘Well, then, she knows what to do, don’t she? I have had six and, let me tell you, you know what to do after that many.’ And the woman nodded to herself and seemed pleased, as though Milli lying on the floor of the courthouse in the final stage of her confinement was an entirely ordinary occurrence, perhaps even one to be applauded.

‘They said she was dead!’ said Alice, searching the woman’s face. Reassurance, if it came, would come from here, she felt.

‘Dead! What does a man know about it? A sight of blood and they go all to pieces.’ The woman aimed a contemptuous glance at the young man who had fainted and was now being fanned by his girl and his mother. She turned back to Alice. ‘Serves them right, anyhow. Look what she has done to their fine court—gone and given birth in it! Ha! That is what I say. Serves them right, God forgive me.’ And when Alice stared at her, uncomprehending: ‘Did you not hear, dearie? Where you not there in the court? That old devil—God forgive me—of a judge give yer sister three years’ hard labour. For breaking a winda! No wonder she keeled over and went into her confinement.’

Alice heard these words from very far away, a tiny voice in a great void. The rest of her shrank and she heard nothing more.

The bench on which Alice and the elderly woman sat had been built for poor people. Every expense had been spared in its design and construction with the expectation that the persons who would avail themselves of it would be the family, dependents and associates of criminals. The lowest of the low.

The elderly woman in tartan patted Alice’s hand and smiled a sad and distant smile. Alice felt as though the woman had been talking all this while—her thin lips forming words, perhaps in an effort to alleviate the very suffering and indignation they described—but Alice had heard nothing. There was a buzzing in her head.

‘Poor child. You have had a shock.’ And the woman nodded and patted. She had no teeth and perhaps had no need for any. She smelled of boiled cabbage and sour sweat and sawdust and a dozen other things.

‘Three years’ hard labour,’ said Alice, from very far off.

‘Yes, dear.’

They had not sat long when the door to the courtroom opened. Alice jumped up and started forward; a shudder of fear flooded her heart and caught in her throat. A woman emerged, a matron or nurse, carrying sheets, blankets, bloodied and soiled, and went down the stairs. She looked at no one: important, busy—or ashamed.