‘Well, go on then!’ she urged Tom. ‘I’m here now, and I’ll not be messed about!’ Ambling across the room, she came to the bed. ‘And what’s up with you? Filled yer belly with a young’un, has he? Making yer feel rotten to the core, is it?’

Bridget might have stopped her, but when Nelly got started, no one else could get a word in.

‘Oh, aye. I know all about that, seeing as I’ve ’ad more than me fair share o’ young’uns meself. Mind you, they’re all of ’em long gone now, an’ thank the good Lord for small mercies, that’s what I say.’ She gave a cheeky grin. ‘Trouble is, all the men ’ave gone an’ all. The buggers couldn’t handle me, that was the truth. I were too much woman for ’em, do yer see?’ And while she spoke, her eyes twinkled with memories of long ago.

Bridget gave her a small, crafty wink. ‘I’m just a bit under the weather, that’s all, Nelly.’ It was the sort of informative wink that one woman could give another, and the understanding was clear.

Nelly rose to the occasion. Turning to Tom, she screeched, ‘Are you still here? You’d best be off, young man. This is women’s business.’

Uncomfortable in her presence, Tom shuffled his feet. ‘Right then.’ Sidling past Nelly, he placed a kiss on Bridget’s cheek and quickly departed with the words, ‘Look after her, Nelly. I’m not sure what time I’ll be able to get away.’

‘Stay away as long as you like,’ Nelly called back. ‘We’ve no need of you here.’

A moment later they heard the front door close.

‘Now then, Bridget Mulligan.’ Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Nelly settled herself on the edge of the bed. ‘What little game are you playing, eh?’

Scrambling out of bed, Bridget confessed, ‘I need a few hours to myself, and it was the only way I could get him out of the house.’

Nelly’s face opened with surprise. ‘Aah! Got yerself a boyfriend on the side, ’ave yer?’ The old face crinkled like a dried prune. ‘Lucky divil!’

‘No!’ Bridget was shocked that Nelly had twice hit so near the truth. ‘You’ve got it wrong, Nelly. I love Tom. He’s a good man, and I would never do anything to hurt him.’ Not any more, she wouldn’t anyway. Once was more than enough, and now, because of it, she was in terrible trouble.

‘Well, if it isn’t a boyfriend, what is it? Are you planning some sort of surprise? His birthday, is that it? And you want him out of the way so you can get it all ready?’ Standing up, Nelly rolled back her sleeves. ‘Where’s the food? I’m a dab hand at laying out a party table, so I am.’

‘Wrong again, Nelly.’ Bridget was already halfway dressed. ‘It’s Fanny.’

Nelly frowned. ‘Fanny who?’ Her memory wasn’t what it used to be.

‘You met her that day she called here, and the two of us went out shopping. You asked me about her at the time, and I told you, she lives on Montague Street. Oh, you must remember her, Nelly. She’s taller than me, a bit on the thin side, wiry brown hair—’