The truth was unbearable. Because of her, Tom had done this terrible thing. Because of her! She knew that beyond any doubt.

And try as she might, Nelly could do nothing to ease her pain.

In blazing sunshine, beneath a flowering cherry tree, Tom Mulligan was laid to rest.

Though he might have cursed her, Fanny Higgins was there to pay her respects. ‘God rest his soul,’ she murmured, bowing her head and making the sign of the cross. ‘And may God forgive him.’

Nelly, too, was there, standing some way apart from Fanny and Bridget. Huddled close to another neighbour from King Street, Nelly dabbed at her eyes with a spotless white handkerchief. ‘He did a terrible thing,’ she muttered angrily. ‘A young man like that, with a bairn only weeks old. Whatever came into his mind to make him take his own life?’

All the quarrymen were there. None of them spoke. They stood like proud sentries round Tom’s open grave, looking down into that deep, wide hole, and thinking how one day they would all return to the earth. It was a sobering thought.

Of them all, Ted Louis was most affected. The shock of what Tom had done had changed him beyond recognition, some said.

When the prayer was finished, Bridget stepped forward, a small, tragic figure clothed in black. In one arm she carried Ruth; in the other she clutched a slim bunch of yellow roses. Gazing down for a long moment, she let the tears fall, her eyes red from crying. Throwing the roses into the grave, she told Tom in a whisper that she would never forget him, and that she understood.

But understanding did not make the bearing any easier.

‘Come away now, me darlin’,’ Fanny’s voice murmured in her ear. ‘He’s in God’s hands now.’

Bridget nodded and turned, and made her way back to the carriage. The other mourners followed.

Out of the corner of her eye, Bridget saw a solitary figure standing to one side. It was Harry, the father of her child. His gaze enveloped her, his eyes scarred by what he had done to Tom. He must have been there all the time, she thought. He had come to pay his respects, but he, like her, was responsible for putting Tom in the cold ground.

A feeling of repugnance came over her.

She saw his mouth move. She knew he was saying sorry, but she walked on without acknowledging him.

Harry’s gaze followed her. Dear God, if only he could turn the clock back, he would have moved heaven and earth.

‘Don’t blame yourself.’ Alice took hold of his arm. ‘And don’t think you can do anything about it, because she doesn’t want you. Anyone can see that.’

The look he gave her was murderous.

She didn’t seem to realise, or care, that she was stirring him to hatred. ‘If you’re thinking of approaching her, you’d better think again. All you’ll do is make matters worse. Besides, Mother needs you at home far more than Bridget Mulligan ever will. I have a trip planned to Europe, remember, and I’ll be away for weeks.’