He stood outside Molly’s house on Dock Street, watching the door and willing her to appear. When she did not, he walked away, an unhappy figure with bowed shoulders and reluctant step. For him – without any hope of winning Molly – life had suddenly lost its meaning.

However, life must go on. There was always work to compensate a man. Now that he was back in the area, he would go to the mill on Eanam Wharf. When Marlow Tanner had taken his wife Emma on a long sea voyage after the tragic loss of their only son, he had left a good and loyal man in charge during his absence.

Mick Darcy quickened his step. That was where he was headed: to ask this ‘good and loyal’ man for work. Molly had gone to Jack, and, according to Tilly Watson’s eldest, she was ‘happiest I’ve seen her in a long while’. It was poor compensation for his own unhappiness. At least she had gone to Jack of her own accord and, at long last, it did seem as though she’d got her heart’s desire. There was little he could do but wish her well, and pray that the good Lord would watch over her.

‘Why can’t we stay here, Mammy?’ Little Sal was close to tears as she helped Molly to pile their pitiful bits and pieces on to the cart.

‘Because we’re going to find somewhere better!’ Molly was at her wit’s end. Since fleeing Dock Street and not even daring to confide her reasons to Tilly for fear that the Justice was closing in on her, Molly and her bairns had traipsed all over the north west, sleeping in derelict houses, rat-infested warehouses and even setting up home in a shed behind a laundry. Each time something had driven them on: either a curious constable or taunting children, and in the case of the shed at the rear of the laundry, an official who threatened to call higher authorities. The most recent abode was a condemned property in the centre of Liverpool, a good spot because the people there minded their own business.

Recently though, this block of condemned houses had begun to attract all manner of undesirables, layabouts and loud-mouthed drunks who had come to take an unhealthy interest in Molly and the young ones, particularly in little Sal, with her wide blue eyes and yellow hair. Only last night two men, the worse for drink, had come stumbling into the room which Molly had made surprisingly cosy. They made it clear to Molly that it was Sal they wanted. They offered money, promising to ‘fetch the little angel back when we’ve done’.

Terrified, Molly had yelled and screamed at them, flinging every missile she could lay her hands to, until being the cowardly fellows they were, the two intruders took to their heels.

Molly suspected these fornicators would be back. Such foul creatures were not easily deterred. So, weary of heart, yet ever strong in spirit and determination where the safety of her bairns was concerned, at the first light Molly began gathering their belongings together.