‘We’ll go for a little ride, shall we? You can tell me what’s been happening between you and Tom. The bairns can get to know each other, and when they start bawling for their titty, I’ll take you home – well, as far as the bottom end of King Street. We don’t want your old man knowing you’ve been out with me, do we, eh?’

Fanny edged the horse and wagon out towards the main road. Soon they were heading towards Pleasington and open country. While the bairns gurgled and played, she and Bridget talked about anything and everything. They talked of Bill, and how Fanny would miss him, and Fanny confessed, ‘To tell the truth, gal, I’d rather have had the old bugger aside o’ me than sell him for a bag full o’ money. I’ve a son now, and so has he, though he denied all knowledge of it to his wife. But my little lad needs a father, and when all’s said and done, I reckon Bill would do as well as the next feller.’

‘Are you sure it’s not too late?’ Bridget asked. ‘Can’t you go and see him? Explain the way things are?’

‘I might have considered it some time back,’ Fanny answered thoughtfully, ‘but not now, gal. Not since the old battleaxe told me what he’d been saying. He made me out to be a mad woman, wanting him at any cost. I can’t forgive that. Bill Norman has proved himself to be a liar and a coward, and there ain’t no room in my life for that kind of a creature. I’ve got security now, though I know it won’t last for ever, and I’ve got my pride. Whereas Bill Norman is saddled with a monster of a wife and a life I wouldn’t want if they gave me the Crown Jewels as consolation.’

When they’d exhausted Fanny’s news, Bridget told her that she and Tom were getting along well enough. ‘He’s finding it hard though,’ she said. ‘He can’t bring himself to hold Ruth. He can’t even bear to be near her. In fact, he’s deliberately working all hours, spending more time at the quarry than he does at home.’

‘What about you?’ Fanny asked. ‘Can he bear to be near you?’

‘We talk,’ Bridget said resignedly. ‘It’s a start.’ But it was never enough for her. She needed him to be a husband, like he used to be. And a father to Ruth, God willing.

When all the serious issues were covered, Bridget asked, ‘What made you buy a wagon?’

‘Ah, well now, I don’t know if I ever told you, but I come of Irish stock, so I’m used to the horse and wagon. My old daddy was a tinker, you see, gal. With my mammy and infant brother we travelled all over the place – spent a magical summer in Scotland once. Daddy said he had relatives there, but I reckon he were lying. He liked the ale there, that’s what me mam said.’ Suddenly she was silent, her eyes fixed on the road ahead, and her gaze sad. ‘Two years later my brother died of the fever. Mammy went the same way soon after.’