‘Fancy coming down the Shipwright after work for a few jars? Jed Owen’s missus had another bairn at the weekend, a little lad after their seven lassies and he’s celebrating. Tell Davey he’s welcome an’ all although I dare say he’ll be high-tailing it home to Rose as usual. Mind, if I had one like her at home I’d be doing the same. Missed out there, didn’t you, lad,’ he added with a sly grin at his pal standing next to him. ‘Bonniest lass for miles and she picked our Davey.’

Nathaniel’s prowess with the ladies was known and somewhat resented in some quarters, not least because of the cockiness that accompanied the tales of his exploits.

‘I reckon you might be losing your touch, Nat. What say you?’

Nathaniel’s feelings for Rose were a constant thorn in his flesh and this, added to his earlier thoughts, tightened his mouth. He had a desire to smash his fist into the gormless face in front of him, but instead made himself shrug and smile. ‘Don’t worry about me, Terry, I get more than enough,’ he said, adding nonchalantly, ‘Was that your missus I saw in the Grey Horse Saturday night with a group of lassies from the pickling factory? Having a right old time they were with a bunch of sailors from one of the cargo boats.’

The smile was wiped off Terry’s red-veined face. His wife, a huge blowsy woman with a foul mouth and a liking for gin, regularly frequented the less salubrious public houses in the East End with her cronies in the evenings, leaving her husband and their brood of unwashed ragamuffins to fend for themselves. Terry was half her size, and it was whispered that when he objected to her antics she used her fists on him. Certainly it wasn’t unusual to see him sporting a cut lip or a black eye. The Grey Horse was a notorious public house and generally referred to as a knocking shop.

Terry visibly swelled, drawing himself up as far as his five foot nothing allowed. ‘What’re you getting at?’

Nathaniel’s handsome face was the picture of innocence as he smiled at the bristling little figure. ‘Getting at? Nowt, man. Just wondered if it was your Nora, that’s all.’

‘Leave it.’ Terry’s pal nudged him. ‘He’s just trying to wind you up. Don’t give him the satisfaction.’ Glaring at Nathaniel, he manhandled Terry in front of him, prodding him forwards.

When Nathaniel got to the table where David was seated, David stared at him. ‘What was all that about, with Terry Wood? Looked like he was miffed about something?’