Having seen enough, she went to him, impatient as usual. ‘Mother is being difficult,’ she complained. ‘And, as always, she will not be consoled by anyone but you.’

‘Is she ill?’

‘No, just cantankerous.’

‘You mean she won’t let you have your own way.’

‘I hate it when you leave me alone with her.’

‘You have a responsibility, Alice, whether you like it or not. I told you when I came out that I had several business matters to attend to.’

‘I won’t go back without you.’

‘Oh, yes you will,’ he declared angrily. ‘I shan’t be home for at least another hour or so yet. No man can run his business from inside closed doors. Now, take yourself home and don’t aggravate her or you’ll answer to me.’

‘I’m not going back without you, Harry. She hates me.’

Visibly controlling his anger, he closed his fingers over her wrist and drew her sharply to him, his voice low and trembling. ‘Is it any wonder she hates you? What kindness have you ever shown her? You’ll do as I say and make your way back now! For once in your life have a thought for those who put the clothes on your worthless back!’

Realising she had goaded him too far, she snatched herself away and hurried towards Penny Street.

Ruthie had heard it all. ‘Is she your missus?’

Harry was still boiling inside, but Ruthie’s innocent question brought a smile to his face. ‘Good Lord, no,’ he chuckled. ‘She’s my sister, and not a very good one at that.’

‘She’s very rude.’

‘Through the eyes of a child,’ he murmured. He noticed Bridget coming towards them. ‘Look, here’s your mammy come to get you,’ he told Ruthie. To Bridget he said, ‘She’s like you. Warm and honest.’

‘No,’ Bridget replied softly. ‘She’s not like me. Ruthie is her own special self. I’m just… Bridget Mulligan.’ A smile lifted her face and soon he, too, was smiling.

They looked at each other, and something sparked between them, a bond that only memory and love could bring.

Reaching down to stroke Ruthie’s hair, Harry said, ‘I have to go now. Take care of your mammy, because whether she believes it or not, she is very special too.’ And as far as he was concerned, she always would be.

Less than an hour later, having hurried through his business and concerned about leaving Alice alone with their mother, Harry made his way home at a fast pace.

As he strode towards the house, even before he set foot inside he knew something was not quite right.

The old lady hated the dark and he always left the stairway lamp burning, but he realised the lamp must be out because there was no flickering light shining through the glass door panels. In fact, the whole house was in darkness, and when he let himself in, he could hear the sound of someone softly crying upstairs.

Deeply concerned, he quickly lit a lamp and mounted the stairs two steps at a time. When he opened the door to his mother’s room, she held out her arms to him. ‘Oh, Harry! Harry!’ she cried. ‘I’m so glad you’re home. Come in quickly. Shut the door.’