Nelly wasn’t easily put off. ‘She needs you, Mr Mulligan,’ she insisted. ‘She’s been calling for you.’ And that was no lie.

It was the woman who answered. ‘You’ve been told to bugger off,’ she said. ‘Are you deaf or what, you old bag?’

Staring at the woman through hard eyes, Nelly told her, ‘There was a time, God help me, when circumstances forced me to scour a living on the streets of Liverpool. I’m not proud of that, and never will be, but I can hold my head up as well as any woman and better than most because, however low I sank, I never once lost my sense of decency.’

The woman squirmed beneath her glare, and Nelly turned the knife. ‘As far as I know, I never once bedded a feller while his own wife lay dying in the next house, giving birth to his bairn and barred from her own house by this sorry creature standing aside of you.’ She spat on the ground. ‘Dirt beneath that lass’s feet, that’s what you are, the pair of you. As far as I’m concerned, you deserve each other.’

As she scurried back to her own front door, Nelly heard the woman’s shrill voice shout at Tom, ‘Damned liar! You told me she’d packed her bags and buggered off.’ Nelly paused to look back. The woman had stalked off down the road and Tom was staring after her. Then he turned into his house and slammed the door. ‘May God forgive you,’ Nelly murmured. But in her heart she thought He never would.

When she came into the bedroom, Nelly was surprised to see Bob Morris still there. Many a young man would have stayed only as long as it took for her to turn her back, she thought, then he’d have run off like a scalded cur. Instead, Bob was sitting on the side of the bed, holding Bridget’s hand and softly murmuring to her.

‘She keeps drifting in and out of her senses,’ he told Nelly softly. ‘I’ve just been talking to her. I didn’t know what else to do.’

Nelly patted him on the shoulder. ‘You’ve done all right,’ she said gratefully. She looked more closely at him, at the chiselled features and serious dark eyes. ‘How old are you, son?’

‘Twenty-eight.’

‘Well then, there’s nobbut half a dozen years or so between the two of you. But she’s a woman and you’re not, so you can’t fathom out what she’s going through, more’s the pity. Yet you’ve given her a deal of comfort when her own husband’s turned his back on her. You’re a good soul, Bob Morris,’ she said, ‘and I thank you.’

‘I wouldn’t leave her,’ he said simply.

Bridget was lying so still, for one terrible minute Nelly thought they’d lost her. ‘Hold on, Bridget, lass,’ she whispered against her face. ‘Help’s on its way. Molly Dewhirst will have you right in no time at all.’

Bob was appalled. ‘Not Molly Dewhirst!’ he said in a low, shocked whisper. ‘I’ve heard about her and not much of it’s good.’