Bridget stopped to chat. ‘Thank you, Nelly. I’m taking Ruth for her very first outing.’

‘Quite right.’ Curiosity got the better of her. ‘And where might you be off to?’

‘Well, as it’s such a lovely day, I thought we might walk along the canal.’ Knowing how Nelly liked to talk, Bridget made no mention of Fanny in case word got back to Tom.

‘Aye, well, like you say, it is a fine day, and I’m sure the bairn would get a deal of pleasure from watching the ducks on the water.’ Clucking at the sleeping child, Nelly discreetly scrutinised Bridget, noting the bright hazel eyes and the way her long brown hair shone in the sunlight. ‘You go on and enjoy yourself, lass,’ she said. ‘Lord knows you’ve earned the right.’

When Bridget said cheerio and carried on, the old biddy stared after her. ‘Nobody has a right to be as pretty as that,’ she grumbled, ‘especially after what she’s been through. Anybody would think she had a man friend waiting in the park.’

She started walking on; then she stopped and looked at Bridget once more, her inquisitive mind busy. She recalled the raised voices from next door, and the way Bridget had fled to her in her hour of need although her own husband was at home. She remembered how, right up to the day Bridget gave birth, Tom Mulligan never once inquired about her, even though she herself had warned him that his wife might not live. Then there was the floozy he’d taken to his bed. What kind of man would do such a thing with his wife lying desperately ill and his child’s life threatened too? Her mind ticked over like a clock. No man would behave like that, surely – unless he had good reason.

As she stood considering all these things, Bridget turned and gave her a wave, making Nelly feel ashamed. ‘You’re a born troublemaker, Nelly Potts,’ she chided. ‘Why! That lass never gave him no good cause to do what he did. The plain truth is, Tom Mulligan is the same as most other men. A wife on one arm and a floozy on the other. I’ve never met a man yet who needs a reason to cheat. Randy buggers, each and every one!’

Thinking of it, she chuckled out loud, wishing she had a randy bugger to keep her warm of a night. ‘I might be toothless and dried up, but it’s never too late, isn’t that what they say?’

It was a farfetched idea and she doubted if any man would even look at her, let alone take her to his bed. All the same, just thinking about it put a spring in her step.

A glance at the clock on the church spire told Bridget it was already quarter past midday.

‘I’m sure Fan said she’d be waiting here at quarter to.’ Plucking her bag from the pram, she took out the note Fanny had sent. ‘I’ll meet you at quarter to twelve where the canal crosses the bridge at Penny Street,’ said the note.