He put the lamp down on the dresser and went to her. ‘What is it, Mother? Where’s Alice? I told her not to leave you on your own. And why is the house in darkness?’

‘She turned out all the lamps, Harry,’ Maud quavered. ‘Alice left me in the dark. I don’t like the dark.’

‘Why did she do that?’

‘She’s going off her mind,’ the old lady whispered. ‘Stay here with me, Harry. Don’t leave me.’

‘Hush now. There’s nothing to be frightened of. I’m not going out again but I must go and find Alice.’ He kissed her on the forehead. ‘You do understand, don’t you?’

She nodded, and watched him leave the room.

The way was dark. Only the flickering of the lamp he had left in his mother’s room helped to light the way.

As he came nearer to Alice’s room, he heard silly, childish laughter.

He inched open the door and in the light from the street lamp outside the window he made out his sister lying sprawled on the floor. Beside her was another, masculine figure, laughing as he tried to mount her.

Harry stepped forward into the room.

‘Who’s that?’ The man fell back, startled.

Alice knelt to light the lamp, her eyes filled with fury as she stared at her brother. ‘Get out of here, Harry!’

She was stark naked. So was the man.

‘Clear off, matey,’ he told Harry. ‘You’ll have to wait your turn.’

Incensed beyond reason, Harry lunged forward and jerked the man roughly to his feet. Without a word, he threw both him and his clothes down the stairs. ‘If I see you anywhere near this house again,’ he hissed, ‘I’ll break your neck, so help me God.’

The man scrambled out of the house like a scalded cat.

‘You bastard!’ screeched Alice. ‘You’ve no right to throw him out. I invited him here. It has nothing to do with you!’

Swinging round, Harry took hold of her. ‘You’re wrong, Alice. It has everything to do with me.’ His face was like stone. ‘You have no shame. You bring a man like that into our father’s home, you terrorise an old woman, your own mother… I’d be failing in my duty if I allowed you to stay under this roof.’

Fear rippled through her. ‘What are you saying?’

‘I’m saying I want you out of here.’

‘You can’t! Don’t forget, I’m not the only one who brought shame on this house. What about you and the Mulligan woman?’

With a cry, he raised his hand to slap her, but with immense control he stopped himself. ‘You’re not fit to even speak Bridget Mulligan’s name. Yes, I did wrong, but it wasn’t out of lust or greed. It was something altogether different, something you could never understand. The only mistake I made was that Bridget was not mine to love. I have paid a terrible price for what I did, and so has she. But you’ve sunk so low you’re incapable of recognising goodness when you see it! So don’t talk to me about Bridget Mulligan. You’re not fit to wipe her boots!’