‘What will you do with the house?’

‘Happen I’ll sell it. I don’t want to, but we might need the money.’ She crinkled her face, as she always did when she was thinking. ‘But not yet. I’ve got enough put by to keep us going for a while, and we’ll pick up odd jobs on the way, I’m sure.’

‘What about Billy’s schooling?’

‘Billy will be all right. He’ll learn about the trees and the brooks, and the way a bird glides through the skies. He’ll see foals being born in the fields, chickens hatching, and sheep licking their newborn. Of a night he’ll see a bat or an owl so close he’ll be able to reach out and touch it.’

While she spoke her eyes shone with such wonder that Bridget was mesmerised. She never knew Fanny had such an imagination.

‘Oh, an’ the little bugger will watch the trains churning out their steam. He’ll sit astride a bridge and draw them to his heart’s content, bless ’im. That’s what he loves, gal, like me, though I never knew what lay out there until I got meself that old wagon. It’s opened my eyes, gal, I can tell yer.’ Her smile was bright with pleasure. ‘God’s world, gal. That will be my boy’s schooling, and when he’s old enough he can take up whatever work he sees fit.’

Bridget couldn’t argue with that. ‘You really have thought it through, haven’t you?’

‘I lay awake all night thinking about it. It’s a big step, I know that, gal. But I’m convinced it’s the right decision. For me, and for my lad.’

Bridget did not try to change her mind. Instead, she talked of other things, of Ruthie, and how she would miss Billy. ‘They get on so well,’ she said. ‘He’s like a brother to her.’

‘Ah, well now, if you get wed to Bob Morris, you might well have another bairn. Have yer thought o’ that?’

‘I’ve told you before, I don’t want another bairn.’

‘There’s summat about Bob that worries yer, ain’t there?’

‘I never said that.’

Fanny smiled a knowing smile. ‘Aye, well, yer don’t have to, my gal,’ she said. ‘I know you only too well.’ Settling back in her chair, she regarded Bridget through beady eyes. ‘Come on then, gal. Out with it.’

Bridget wanted to tell, and she didn’t want to tell. All these years she had kept it to herself, not telling a soul, yet always it had been at the back of her mind, gnawing away, making her feel beholden. She couldn’t see the point of telling anyone about it after all this time, but then again, there was surely no harm in telling Fanny. She knew she would feel better for it, especially as Fanny wouldn’t be here for her to talk to in the near future.

‘There are two things bothering me,’ she began. ‘Like I said before, I don’t mind Bob. In fact, to tell the truth, I really like him. But I’ve a feeling his father doesn’t approve of me.’