His need of Molly was most obvious by the manner in which he pressed himself against her, pushing her back against the wall, and beginning to fumble at his trousers with his one free hand. In his growing excitement, his teeth sank into Molly’s lips, causing a slight trickle of blood to escape.

With a last, determined effort, Molly twisted herself away from him, gasping with horror when he made a frantic grab at her and lost his balance! She was helpless as he stumbled sideways and fell on to the steps, before sliding ever so slowly over each stone rising, until with a muffled thump, he came to rest at the bottom, his jacket tangled round his neck, and his trousers limp round his boots.

For one awful minute Molly was petrified, staring down at the misshapen lump and fearful that he’d drawn his last breath.

When she hurried down the steps to investigate, however, Molly’s fears were stilled. Joe had come to no harm. ‘Come the morning, every bone in your body’ll ache,’ Molly told his prostrate form, ‘and it’s no more than you deserve, Joe Watson!’ She couldn’t help but chuckle at the poor fellow. Yet, all in all, the experience had not been a pleasant one. Certainly not one which she would ever hope to be repeated.

As Molly returned to the parlour, where she collected Joe Watson’s greatcoat from the nail on the door, she recalled the ardour of that young man. The more she thought about it, the more serious her mood became. There was no doubting that Tilly’s eldest had a yearning for her. A yearning that she had not been aware of. Until tonight.

Oh, it was true that Joe Watson had been influenced by the jugs of ale he had downed at the ale house. But wasn’t it also true that, while the ale might have plucked up the courage for him to make advances to her, the wanting itself was already in him? That particular thought disturbed Molly a great deal. Suddenly she was made to recall how, on occasions, she had caught Tilly’s eldest staring at her in a strange manner which she took to be disapproval of her and the young ’uns being there. Well! It was plain to see that that was not the case at all. The simple truth was that Joe Watson had a hankering to bed her! There could be trouble in that, thought Molly. Real trouble. Of a kind she could well do without!

On swift, silent feet, Molly returned to the place where Joe Watson still lay, open-mouthed, loudly snoring and out to the world. Where she had been amused before, she was now troubled. ‘You’ve made my mind up, Joe Watson,’ she told him, while carefully draping the heavy greatcoat over his figure, and tucking in his limbs out of the cold. ‘I can’t stay here another day. It’s London Town for me. And the sooner the better!’

For some reason she couldn’t fathom, Tilly Watson suddenly woke up in the early hours. Climbing out of bed, she went on bare feet to the window, shivering and moaning when the cold floorboards struck chilly to her toes.