Allowing Bridget the time she needed to gather her thoughts, Fanny went along with the conversation. ‘The boy does seem to have shot up all of a sudden. But then, so has Ruthie. She’s making a real beauty, an’ no mistake,’ Fanny declared. ‘I tell you, gal, when she grows up, that long, chestnut-coloured hair and them big saucer-blue eyes will drive the fellers up the wall.’ She pointed to Billy who was seated beside Ruthie, his arm round her small shoulders and a smile on his face that made both women chuckle. ‘See that, the little bugger’s in love with her already.’

‘It’s hard to believe that the day before yesterday Billy was six years old, and today Ruthie the same.’ Bridget could recall the day Billy was born as if it was yesterday. Ruthie’s birth, however, was less vivid, but that was hardly surprising.

‘Time flies, gal,’ Fanny sighed. ‘That’s why we should live every minute as though it were our last.’

‘I know what you’re trying to say, Fanny, and I know what you want me to tell you.’

‘Oh, aye, and what’s that?’

‘You think I should marry Bob Morris, don’t you?’

‘That’s for you to say, gal. There’s nobody on this earth who can help you make up your mind where that’s concerned. But while you’re deciding, think on this. The poor sod’s been asking you to be his missus long enough. I reckon it’s time you gave him an answer one way or the other, and put him out of his misery.’

‘I have given him an answer. Time and again I’ve told him I’m not ready to marry again, and still he won’t go away.’

‘Is that what you really want, gal? For him to go away?’

‘I’m not sure what I want any more.’

Fanny changed her tactics. ‘Tell me what’s bothering you, gal. Is it that you don’t like Bob enough to settle down with him?’

‘No. I do like him enough. It’s just that I…’ She shrugged, reluctant to go on.

‘Is it Ruthie? Has she taken against him?’

‘Ruthie seems happy enough when he’s around. Remember, Fan, he’s known her since she was a baby. He used to push her round in her carriage. He takes a real interest in everything she does.’

‘So, it’s not that you don’t like him enough to settle down with him, and it’s not because Ruthie doesn’t like him. In that case, why can’t you tell him yes? Marry him, gal. Let him take care of you and Ruthie. From what you tell me, he’s built his business up to a thriving concern. He’s contracted to buy milk and eggs from eight farms hereabouts, and he’s got enough eager customers waiting to pour money into his pockets. By! He must be earning a small fortune.’

Bridget gave a wry smile. ‘That’s true, and if he had his way, he’d spend it all on me and Ruthie.’

‘There you are then. You could give up your job at the market, become a lady of leisure, or raise a horde of young’uns, if that’s what you want.’