‘What the devil do you mean?’ Edward Morris was a big man, with long, drooping whiskers and a hard, hostile face that forbade anyone to get too close. ‘Explain yourself, my boy!’

When he was a child, Bob had been in awe of his father. He had endured hours of standing in corners and even now he bore the scars of spiteful, severe beatings; not physical scars, but mental and emotional scars. Now he was a man and he was not afraid any more but there was still a part of him that squirmed at the look in his father’s eyes. It might be suppressed, but that scared little boy was still there, deep inside.

‘Answer me, boy. I asked you to explain. What do you mean, you’re getting married? This is the first I’ve heard of it. I want to know who she is, what family she’s from. How long has this been going on?’ Seated behind his desk, his formidable presence filled the room.

Bob stood proud, his eyes unflinchingly on his father’s face, his hands calm and still by his sides. ‘I’ve known her for many years,’ he said proudly, ‘though it’s only these past three years that we’ve grown closer. Her name is Bridget, and she is not from any notable family. In fact, there is only her and her little girl. Her husband was…’ He paused. There was no need to go into too much detail. ‘He was killed in an accident some years ago.’

The older man was appalled. He leaned forward across the desk. ‘A widow! He spat out the word as though it had a bad taste. ‘You’ve been seeing a widow? And she’s got a child?’ His face straightened, suspicious. ‘It’s not yours, is it?’

‘No, it is not.’

‘Was she left well-off by her husband?’

‘No.’

‘So what does she do? How does she live?’

Bob took a deep breath. This would be difficult, and he must stand firm. ‘Bridget works with a man called Joe Tidy. He has a draper’s stall in the market.’

For what seemed an age Edward Morris stared at his son, his eyes as hard as marbles. Presently, he opened a drawer. He took out a book, opened it and picked up his pen. ‘How much does she want?’ he asked quietly.

Bob was across the room in two strides. He slammed his fist on the desk. ‘How dare you!’

Coolly, Edward looked up. ‘This woman, who has no husband but owns a child and works at a market stall, obviously knows who I am. It’s very clear to me that she’s looking to be paid off.’

Bob shook his head in disbelief. ‘You disgust me, Father. You think money buys everything, don’t you?’

‘In my experience it does.’

‘Not this time. Bridget wants nothing from you, and neither do I. I’ve built up a thriving business, and I’ve done it without your help. We have more than enough to live on.’

Edward laughed at him. ‘Business? Buying and selling milk and eggs? You have no idea how you embarrass me! Me! A man of importance, a man people look up to, and I have a son who buys and sells dairy produce! I hoped my son would follow in my footsteps, but you haven’t got it in you. I’ve always known that. You’re too soft. You always have been. Soft and deceitful.’