She had been thinking about Davey more since her engagement and always with a feeling of guilt that she hadn’t loved him as much as he’d loved her. She had cared for him, of course, but the feeling she had for Alexander so far transcended what she’d felt for Davey that the two weren’t comparable. But she had made Davey happy. She turned back to the window again, hugging herself round her waist. And that was a comfort. And if the accident hadn’t occurred, she would have gone on being a good wife and mother and making him happy. Of course there would always have been Nathaniel in the background, but if Davey hadn’t died she would never have discovered how his best friend really felt about her. Or would Nathaniel have caused trouble for them further down the line?

She sighed irritably. She was thinking too much. Ifs and buts and maybes were pointless, and when Alexander was home she didn’t feel like this. He filled her with boundless optimism and confidence for the future, and in truth she knew they were blessed to have found each other. The terrible tragedy of the Titanic sinking in April had forcibly brought home the fact that every moment was precious.

Nearly four thousand men, women and children, even babies, had perished in the icy waters of the North Atlantic when the great ship had hit an iceberg on its maiden voyage to New York. There had been so much excitement about the launch of the liner; Alexander had even asked her if she would like to travel on it one day, but now it was lying broken and mangled on the seabed. Who would have thought it? Life was so uncertain.

She walked over and kneeled down beside Betsy, stroking her daughter’s rich curls from her forehead as she said softly, ‘I love you, hinny, so much.’

Betsy grinned at her. ‘I love you, Mam.’ She sat up, crossing her legs. ‘Mam . . .’ she began, in the voice that told Rose Betsy had been thinking about something for a while.

‘Yes, what is it?’

‘When you marry Uncle Alexander, can I call him Da instead of Uncle?’

Trying to hide her surprise, Rose said quietly, ‘Do you want to?’

Betsy nodded, her big brown eyes solemn. ‘But not if you think it would upset me real da in heaven.’

Resisting the impulse to gather the child into her arms and smother her in kisses, Rose said, ‘I don’t think your da would mind at all. He would want you to be happy and if that would make you happy he’d be happy too.’ She could just imagine the look on William and Arabella’s faces if Betsy called Alexander by the working-class idiom for father in front of them, but that was by the by.

‘I think Uncle Alexander would like it,’ Betsy said reflectively. ‘Don’t you?’

‘Most certainly.’