‘She’s the best I know. Besides, there’s no other way. Doctors hold their hand out for what they do, and we’ve neither of us got that kind of money.’

‘Where’s her husband?’

Nelly didn’t want to reveal too much. ‘None of our business.’

‘Has she no mam or dad? No family at all?’

Nelly shook her head. ‘Only her husband that I know of.’ Bob was quiet, his troubled gaze resting on Bridget’s frail features. ‘She felt the need to talk,’ he murmured.

Nelly was all ears. ‘Talk? What about?’

He smiled quietly. Bridget had sworn him to secrecy. ‘Nothing much,’ he lied. ‘It’s just that she seemed to think she were dying and needed to clear her conscience.’

Discreetly, Nelly drew him away from the bedside. ‘She is dying, son, and it’ll take a miracle to save her, poor little bugger. So if you’ve anything I should know about, I’m her only close friend.’ Though her heart was in the right place, Nelly was incurably inquisitive, and nothing in the world would change that. ‘I know she’d want you to tell me.’

Bob stood quite still, his eyes going to Bridget, and his heart too. He had no doubt that Nelly had shown great compassion to Bridget, but that quiet soul had imparted her secret to his safekeeping, and he would not betray her. ‘It was nothing,’ he lied. ‘Just the ramblings of a sick woman.’

Realising he had no intention of revealing anything of what Bridget had said, Nelly let it drop. ‘You can go if you’ve a mind,’ she said, ‘or you can stay. It’s up to you. Once Molly gets here, I dare say she’d be thankful for an extra pair of hands.’ Her gaze was drawn to Bridget. ‘If it’s not already too late.’

Without a word Bob walked back to the bed. He bent and kissed Bridget on the forehead. ‘Your secret is safe with me,’ he whispered so that Nelly could not hear. ‘But it wasn’t so shocking that you should pay for it with your life.’ He turned to Nelly. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, his eyes bright with tears, ‘I can’t stand by and watch this happen.’

‘I understand.’ Nelly wasn’t at all surprised. She had never yet met a man strong enough to deal with the essentials of life, like birth or death.

When he’d gone, Nelly sat where he had sat, with her hand over Bridget’s. ‘He’s not a bad lad, I suppose. At least he gave you comfort where others wouldn’t.’ She was thinking of Tom Mulligan, a man she had always respected. Until now.

After a moment, Bridget opened her eyes. She looked at Nelly but didn’t see her. Her mind was already closing to all things real.

‘Thirsty, are you, lass?’ Nelly did not expect, and did not receive, an answer. ‘You’re not to worry, Molly will be here soon, I promise you.’ Under her breath, she muttered angrily, ‘Where the hell is she?’

She got up and went downstairs to put the kettle on to boil. That done, she prepared a bowl and clean strips of sheeting. Next she half-filled the bowl with fresh water and carried it upstairs to the bedroom. She bathed Bridget’s face and hands, all the while talking to her, trying to stop her from sinking deeper into herself. ‘You have to fight, lass,’ she urged. ‘However hard it is, you have to fight.’