Betsy awoke at the crack of dawn and the day began, but all the time Rose’s mind was buzzing with what she had to do. At some time during the long night she had decided she would go and see Mr Todd, the manager of the Emporium, and tell him her situation had changed and she had to leave the town immediately; she would ask him to buy the rest of the furniture in the house and any bits and pieces like the clippy mats, saucepans and crockery and so on. She would need every penny she could get. Fortunately she still had a large portion left of the money the shipyard had sent, along with the cash from the sale of the three-piece suite, but that wouldn’t go far. She knew where she was going to make for, though, so that was a start. Not long after they’d got wed, Davey had taken her to Gateshead one Saturday afternoon so she could experience a train journey for the first time. The Gateshead East and West stations were close to the town’s shopping centre as well as the riverside industries, and they’d had a wonderful time looking at the shops and eating a cream tea in a little restaurant they’d found. She’d already suspected she might be pregnant with Betsy and she had told Davey over their sandwiches and cream cakes, and, careless of onlookers, he’d reached across and kissed her full on the lips, his eyes shining. Yes, Gateshead held good memories. She nodded to herself. She’d take a temporary room somewhere and start looking for work as soon as she got there. A live-in position as a housekeeper perhaps, or working in a boarding house cooking and cleaning. Anywhere she could keep Betsy with her.

She found she couldn’t eat any breakfast; her stomach felt as though it was tied in a knot. She was just waiting for Betsy to wake from her morning nap and get ready to go and see Mr Todd when there was a sharp rap at the back door. It was still locked and bolted, and as she peered out of the kitchen window her breath caught in surprise. Davey’s mother was standing there, her black coat and hat dusted with snow. She opened the door, staring at the grim-faced woman on the doorstep.

Vera O’Leary looked at the girl she loathed and detested, the chit who’d stolen her lad and turned him against her. Her flat round face gave nothing away as she said, with no preamble, ‘I’ve come to talk to you,’ and when Rose stood aside, she marched into the kitchen carrying the faint smell of cabbage with her, before turning and facing her daughter-in-law.

Totally out of her depth, Rose said tentatively, ‘Won’t you sit down?’