As Fanny lay, face up and dazed, Bill Norman took to his heels and ran off down the street like the coward he was. Behind him a chorus of women’s voices called out what a shameful thing he was. ‘Yer bloody old man should be chopped off and thrown to the dogs!’

On her knees beside Fanny’s prostrate form, Bridget was immensely relieved to see she was not badly hurt. ‘It’s a good job I’m fat enough to roll, gal,’ she quipped. But the tears still lurked, and Bridget could not leave her.

Fanny put one arm round Bridget’s neck and another round the neck of a kindly Irish neighbour and struggled to get up. ‘I feel drunk as a lord,’ she told them with a grin, ‘and I ain’t even had so much as a sip o’ the good stuff.’

With Fanny’s considerable weight on their shoulders, Bridget and the neighbour made their way to the back parlour. ‘On the couch with her. Gently now, me darlin’. I’ve a feeling she’s started, so I have,’ said the neighbour firmly.

A quick examination revealed that Fanny’s waters had broken and, ready or not, she was in the early stages of labour. ‘We can’t let her have the bairn here,’ the neighbour decided. ‘We’ll have to get her upstairs, so we will.’ Glancing at Bridget’s swollen belly and red face, she remarked wryly, ‘Ah, God love us, hold on to it, me darlin’. Sure, I can’t be doing with two of youse at the same time.’

With great difficulty, and with Fanny cursing ‘the ol’ bugger who had his way then buggered off’, they finally got her to the bedroom.

‘I hope you know what yer doing,’ Fanny told the neighbour, between fits of groaning and complaining. ‘Yer not one o’ these wicked devils who butcher helpless women and charge ’em for the privilege?’

‘No, I’m not,’ came the haughty reply. ‘I’ve six kids of me own, and I’ve brought more childer into this world than you’ve had men grunting atop of you, so stop your chatter and let me and this fine young lady get on with the job.’ With that, she tore away Fanny’s skirt and took another look. ‘Sure, it won’t be long now,’ she declared. ‘Then we’ll have the two of youse complaining.’ When a small boy appeared at the door, the woman screeched at him, ‘Be Jaysus! Where’ve you come from, our Danny? This is woman’s stuff. Be off wit’ yer now.’

Before he disappeared, Bridget gave him a sixpence and her home address. ‘Please, Danny, give this note to my husband,’ she said, and hastily scribbled a few lines to say why she was late. ‘Make sure you go straight there,’ she instructed the boy. ‘He’ll be home by now and wondering where I am.’

‘And don’t be stopping on the way to spend the sixpence,’ his mother called out, ‘or I’ll have your arse for a doormat.’

As he scuttled away, Bridget couldn’t help but wonder what sort of a reception she’d have when she finally got home. But right now Fanny needed her and, Tom or no Tom, she would not let her down.