‘Eeh, Wendy, I’ve to go, lass. I can’t be gossiping.’

‘I could tell you as we walk along; it’ll make your hair curl, Betsy. But then maybe not, as you’ve had a taste of what he’s capable of.’

Betsy wanted to scream, but part of her was grateful that the womenfolk believed her story of the rape. She doubted their menfolk did, but that didn’t matter. To have the women against her would have made life even harder to bear.

Glad to reach home, she didn’t dawdle at the gate. Wendy’s tongue was still wagging ten to the dozen, with her much-embellished tale of the goings-on at Feniscowles Manor.

Betsy opened her gate and told Wendy, ‘I’ll see you around, lass. I’ve to get in and get to the lav.’

‘All right, Betsy. Eeh, the sickness has taken you badly – could mean a boy that; when I . . .’

Betsy left Wendy mid-sentence and dashed inside. Struggling to get Rosie up the three steps to the house, she was met by Bill. His welcoming smile turned to a question as he realized she still had Florrie and Daisy with her.

‘What’s to do, lass?’ Then his expression turned to astonishment as she pushed by him. She couldn’t explain anything, as she had to reach the lav in the back yard.

Once the bout had passed, Betsy leaned against the wall. What now? Dear God, what now? Holding her breath until she got outside, she closed the lav door behind her.

The lav wasn’t a place to linger, as the stench of it was too strong. Shared with their neighbour, it was ready for emptying by the bog-men – as the men who came each week with a truck and emptied the lavs were known. She’d never been able to understand how Ivor from next door could take his paper and fags in there and occupy it for half an hour or so. Though she supposed it was a better alternative to his Gertrude nagging him.

Bill was angry when she went back inside. ‘That rotten sod, taking it out on the young ’uns now. I tell you, Betsy, leaving here and going with Mags is looking more tempting every day.’

Betsy had never thought to hear Bill say that. He’d been against them going to Scotland. She’d thought she would have to work him round to it.

‘Eeh, lass, what’s to do? You look awful. I knaw as this is a setback, especially for our Daisy and Florrie, but it don’t warrant getting that upset about. We’ll go with Mags and make a new start, eh? Come on, let me give you a cuddle. And you dry them tears. The young ’uns need us to be strong, as they’ve had a lot to contend with.’

Going into his arms gave Betsy some comfort, but fear clenched her and spoilt the feeling. ‘I’ve to talk to you, Bill, and you ain’t going to like what I have to say. Daisy, get yours and Florrie’s pinnies down and put them on. You can go into the yard and play; you may as well enjoy the sunshine, seeing as you’re not in school. You can take Granny’s old baking tins and make some mud pies, eh?’