‘I can’t hurry up, silly girl,’ came the curt reply. ‘Anyway, don’t stand there watching me. It puts me off.’

Eventually she was finished and Alice slid the jeremiah from beneath her. ‘You’ve filled it!’ she cried, horrified as a trickle escaped and ran on to the sheet. ‘You’re disgusting!’

Feeling threatened, Maud began to cry. ‘I don’t want you. You’re cruel. Where’s Harry? I want Harry.’

‘Yes, and he’s welcome to you! I told you, he’s outside in the rain. If he had any sense he’d clear off from these parts, and me with him!’ Sometimes she pitied Harry, and sometimes she hated him. Right now, she pitied him. Herself too.

She emptied the jeremiah and returned to her own room. Going to the window, she looked out, in time to witness a startling scene in the street below.

Harry was on the point of entering the house when he noticed a figure striding determinedly towards him. It was only when the man was almost on top of him that he saw it was Tom Mulligan. ‘Is it me you want?’ Harry suspected it must be. Strange how sometimes your thoughts could summon up reality.

Amazed at the other man’s coolness, Tom clenched his fists. ‘You know bloody well it’s you I want!’ Legs apart, he stood facing Harry, itching to smash his fist into that quiet face but biding his time until he had some answers. In a voice trembling with emotion, he asked, ‘Answer me straight, you bastard. Did you take her against her will?’

A look of surprise crossed Harry’s features. ‘Did Bridget tell you that?’

‘I’m asking you!’

Harry wondered what had made Bridget confess to Tom. ‘Bridget and I were caught up in circumstances not of our own making,’ he admitted reluctantly. ‘It wasn’t meant to happen, did she tell you that?’

‘Did you take her against her will?’ Tom’s raised voice carried through the sound of thunder to Alice, who had opened her window and was listening to every word, despite the rain lashing down on her.

Harry shook his head. ‘I think you know I would never do such a thing, especially not to Bridget.’

‘You’re a filthy liar!’ With a roar, Tom launched himself at Harry, catching him off guard and sending him sprawling to the pavement. ‘Liar! Liar!’ With every blow Tom cursed and yelled, straddling Harry on the ground and punching at him with such manic strength, it seemed he would finish him off there and then.

For a terrible time Harry was pinned beneath him, until he was on the verge of losing his senses. Then with an almighty burst of strength he thrust his attacker aside. In seconds, the two of them were on their feet. Equally matched, they fought like tigers. There was no mercy, and no victor. Each drew blood, which washed to the pavement and was taken by the rain.

From her vantage point, Alice thought she would be the only witness to murder. The street, which consisted mainly of lock-up shops, was deserted, as it usually was on a Sunday evening. Struggling on the cobbles, Harry seemed to be getting the upper hand as he held Tom down with one fist. But before he could hit him, Tom was back on his feet and dragging Harry across the street by his hair. When he brought his fist up and under Harry’s chin, the crunch of bone was sickening.