Turning back her blouse, she put Ruth to her breast, and while she greedily sucked, Bridget looked wonderingly into her tiny face. When the child was filled and content, Bridget covered her breast and stood up, disappointed that Tom was still not home.

‘Come on, sweetheart. It’s late. Time you were in your bed.’

Washed and fed, the small bundle was carried upstairs and laid in its crib. ‘Asleep already, eh?’ Ruth was a good bairn, and Bridget was grateful for that.

Returning to the parlour, she went to the stairs cupboard and brought out the tin bath which she set before the fire. She hurried to the kitchen and filled two large pans with cold water. In the parlour she wedged them on the coals, and while the water was heating, she laid out a bar of carbolic, a towel, and her best blue nightgown.

Testing the water several times, she was eventually satisfied that it was hot enough and poured it into the tub. Stripping off, she lowered herself into the water, sighing with pleasure as the warm, soothing liquid flowed over her bare skin.

Lying there, eyes closed, Bridget didn’t hear the front door open and close. She had no idea that Tom had walked down the passage and was standing there, his eyes feasting on her nakedness.

It was only when she climbed out of the bath and reached for the towel that she saw him. The cry froze in her throat as she realised with relief that it was only Tom. ‘You frightened me,’ she gently chided. ‘Give me a minute and I’ll have your meal ready.’

Barefooted and with only the towel draped about her, she went into the kitchen.

Unsteady on his feet, Tom followed.

Leaning on the doorjamb, he told her angrily, ‘I thought I told you not to mix with that bloody slag.’

His slurred voice surprised her. Swinging round, she accused him, ‘I thought you were at work, and all the time you’ve been drinking!’ She thought of how she and Ruth had waited for him. She saw now how blind she had been. If he preferred the alehouse to his wife, what kind of future could they have together?

‘Where I go and what I do is my business, damn you!’ He strode across the room and grabbed her by the hair. ‘I said you weren’t to see her, and the minute my back’s turned you’re meeting up with her, riding in that God-awful contraption, brassy as you please. What will folk think, eh? That you’re as bad as she is, that’s what they’ll bloody well think!’

‘Let them think what they like!’ Bridget retaliated. ‘Fanny Higgins is the best friend I’ve ever had, and I’m not about to stop seeing her just because you say so! And what about you, eh? There I was, fool that I am, waiting for you to come home from work so we could have a quiet evening together. I thought we could talk about… everything, sort it out and get it over with.’ He just stared at her.