Rose wiped a floury hand across her brow as she smiled at her daughter. Betsy was chewing on a hard piece of bread she’d baked in the oven, and the baby’s cheeks were bright red from the teething that was causing her such discomfort. Nevertheless, as the child caught her gaze she grinned the toothless smile that always melted Rose’s heart. It still amazed her, the consuming love she felt for this tiny piece of humanity she and Davey had created. During the later months of pregnancy when she’d begun to feel the baby moving inside her she had known the love she felt for it was beyond anything she could have imagined, but when her daughter had been born and she’d held her in her arms for the first time Betsy had become her world.

Sliding the jam tarts she had made into the oven, she cleared the kitchen table of the debris of baking and then brewed herself a pot of tea. Betsy was beginning to grizzle – it was time for her feed – and after taking the tarts out of the oven to cool Rose poured herself a mug of tea and then settled comfortably into one of the two old dumpy armchairs in front of the range with the baby on her lap. Once Betsy had latched on to her breast and was sucking avidly, Rose’s glance wandered around the kitchen, her eyes taking in the whitewashed walls, painted kitchen cupboards in a bright shade of yellow and the scrubbed stone flags on the floor. She loved this room, she loved the whole of her little house. She was so lucky.

The kitchen was warm in stark contrast to the snowy December day outside, and although it was only just after one o’clock it could have been twilight, such was the dimness of the light. She drank the cup of tea she’d placed at her feet before she’d sat down and by the time she had finished Betsy was sound asleep, her downy head lolling and one small plump hand still resting on her mother’s breast.

Carefully, so as not to awaken the child, Rose adjusted her blouse and then closed her heavy eyelids. The last couple of weeks she’d been walking the house with Betsy most nights, trying to keep the baby quiet so that Davey could have his sleep, bless him. The thought of her husband brought a smile to her lips. Several times Davey had got up and made them a pot of tea before reaching for Betsy, saying he would take a turn with their daughter. She couldn’t think of another man hereabouts who would do the same. He was so good to her.