‘You can’t throw me out.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong, Alice. With Father gone, I am head of this household.’

‘What I’ve done is not so wrong.’

‘You think not? You contribute nothing to this household except trouble. You steal money from my workshop and imagine I don’t know about it. You are unwilling to make even the smallest effort to make Mother more comfortable. I’ve put up with your behaviour for the sake of peace, but when you deliberately frighten a helpless old woman by leaving her in the dark while you cavort with God knows who, do you really think I could risk it happening again?’

‘It won’t happen again, I swear it.’

‘Your promises are meaningless. No, Alice, I can’t allow you to stay here. I won’t see you destitute. There will be an adequate allowance to keep you clothed and fed and provide a modest roof over your head, but from now on you are to keep away from this house and if you ever need to see Mother, you will have to go through me. Is that understood?’

‘If you do this to me, I’ll make you regret it.’

His easy smile infuriated her. ‘In my life I’ve regretted many things, Alice,’ he replied. ‘But I will never regret asking you to leave this house.’

‘I’m warning you, there are things I could say – bad things. Things you don’t even know about. Things that might cause you no end of anguish.’ She was thinking of the girl – Harry’s daughter.

‘You could do nothing to cause me anguish that you have not already done.’

She laughed in his face. ‘If you think that, you’re wrong. I saw you with that brat today, your precious woman’s daughter.’

‘Ruthie? What about her?’

‘The girl is yours, Harry. Anyone can see that.’

Disgust showed on his face. ‘Good God, woman! Is there nothing you wouldn’t stoop to?’

Alice twisted the knife. ‘She didn’t tell you, did she? All this time – what, eight years! And she’s deceived you all along. Hah! So much for Bridget Mulligan being any better than I am! She’s a liar. You have a daughter, Harry, and you never knew. For all my faults, I would never be that cruel.’

The colour had drained from Harry’s face. It couldn’t be true. Ruthie was not his. Alice was goading him, and no one was better at that than she was. ‘Bridget never told me because it’s not true,’ he said. ‘That lovely child belongs to Tom Mulligan. I ought to kill you for soiling that good man’s memory. I warn you, Alice, if I ever hear that you’ve spread one word of this terrible lie, I’ll come after you. And I won’t be responsible for my actions.’

‘Ask her! Make her tell you the truth!’

‘That’s enough! Go and get dressed. I’m going to make sure Mother’s all right, and I want you out of the house by the time I return.’

When Harry began to explain to his mother what had happened, she stopped him. ‘I heard it all,’ she said, ‘and you have done what had to be done.’