Bridget closed her eyes. On one side she had the man she loved, and on the other their precious child. I’m the lucky one, she thought.

And as they travelled back to Blackburn, she held on to them for all she was worth.

Chapter Fifteen

It was two weeks since the night when Ruthie was found, but to Bridget it seemed like only yesterday.

Downstairs, she spoke to Alice, while Harry went up to say goodbye to his mother, and to tell her how he would never be far away, and that he would see her often. It had been the right decision for him to move in with Bridget and Ruthie; at least until they were able to make a new start not too far away.

Alice was a changed woman. Emotionally bruised by her recent experiences she had found her way home. ‘I’ve been stupid,’ she told Bridget. ‘I had it all, and it was never enough.’

‘We all make mistakes,’ Bridget consoled her. God knows she had made enough in her time.

Alice looked at Fay, who had been with her these past two days. ‘How can you ever forgive me for what I did to you all?’ she asked. ‘I’ve been bad… shamed you all, and still you don’t punish me for it. Instead, you’re kind and generous and I will never deserve it.’

Fay wound an arm round her shoulders. ‘You’re family,’ she said kindly. ‘We love you.’

Alice had been punished enough; by the very people she chose to turn to. Now, humbled and repentant, she had come to realise who her true friends were.

Harry came down just then. ‘We’d best make tracks, Bridget.’

‘I’m ready.’ Bridget had spoken to Harry’s mother earlier, and had promised that she and Harry would come to see her as often as they could. The old woman seemed content with that. In a couple of months she and Harry would be man and wife, and even now Bridget dared hardly believe it.

It was strange, coming back to Weatherfield Grange after being away for so long.

Peter Doyle had not changed much, Bridget thought: still pathetic; milder; rounder maybe, with slivers of grey in his sideburns. A fast man burned out quickly, she decided.

‘We’ve come to thank you,’ Harry explained. ‘Fanny Higgins was too shy to come herself, but we couldn’t let your kindness go. If it hadn’t been for you intervening, she might still have taken the blame for what happened.’ Bridget thought it had been an uncharacteristic move on his part, but was grateful all the same.

‘I’m sure she would,’ came the reply. ‘Meaker had friends in high places… people who might have squashed his “confession” as the ramblings of a grieving man.’

Bridget had never understood that. ‘But how could that happen,’ she demanded to know, ‘when all along she was innocent?’

‘Miscarriages of justice are not uncommon,’ Doyle replied knowingly. ‘These things have happened in the past, and no doubt they will happen in the future. But, all that aside, I have a proposition to put to the two of you.’