‘I don’t know.’ She did like Bob, there was no denying, and she would always be grateful to him for what he did for her when Ruthie was struggling to come into the world.

‘I know it’s none of my business,’ Joe persisted, ‘but if I’d ever had a daughter I like to think I’d have given her the same advice. It’s not right for you and the bairn to be on your own.’

To his astonishment, Bridget gave him a fleeting kiss. ‘I know you mean well, Joe,’ she acknowledged, ‘and nobody wants Ruth to have a daddy more than I do. But it’s not easy. Bob Morris is a good man, and I’m very fond of him, but I’d rather Ruth had no daddy at all than the wrong one.’ She smiled wistfully. ‘Besides, though he walks me home occasionally, Bob has never given me reason to believe he feels anything other than friendship.’

Joe tapped the side of his nose. ‘A man knows different. There’s more in that young man’s mind than friendship. You see if I’m not right.’

‘You’re an old witch.’

‘And too nosy by half, I know.’ Softly laughing, he turned to serve a customer. As he did so, he caught sight of a familiar figure making its way towards them.

Smiling as always, Bob Morris came straight to Bridget. ‘I was just passing,’ he lied. ‘As it’s getting dark, I wondered if you might like me to walk you home.’

‘Well, thank you, Bob.’ To tell the truth, Bridget didn’t savour the walk home to King Street. It was a long trek, and there were a number of suspicious dark alleys leading off it. ‘If you’re sure.’

‘My pleasure,’ he answered.

When Joe had finished serving the customer, Bob nodded to him. ‘All right, are you?’

‘I’m fine, lad, and yourself?’

‘Glad to be finished for the day. Christmas Eve is always my busiest time.’

While Bob manoeuvred the baby carriage from behind the stall, Joe handed Bridget her wage packet. ‘There’s a little Christmas bonus inside. I’m not very good at knowing what to buy, so I thought it best to give you the money instead,’ he told her. ‘Mind you have a good Christmas, and I’ll see you the second day of the New Year.’

‘I don’t like to think of you spending Christmas on your own, Joe. You know you’re welcome to spend it with me and Ruth. Won’t you come?’ She didn’t see the downcast look on Bob’s face when she made no mention of him.

Much as Joe would have loved to accept, he refused yet again, thinking that if he wasn’t there, she might turn to Bob. ‘I’ll not be on my own,’ he lied. ‘I’ve an old friend coming to see me, somebody I knew when I was a lad. Anyway,’ he joked, ‘don’t you think I see enough of you all year round?’

Bridget gave him a hug. ‘Take care of yourself.’ She took a small parcel out of the pram and gave it to him. ‘Happy Christmas, and don’t open it until tomorrow morning.’ It was only a pouch of his favourite tobacco, but she knew he would appreciate it.