‘Molly, you bugger… what did you push me away for, eh? I’m the best fellow you’re likely to get in a hurry!… The only one, I shouldn’t wonder. Come here, you flighty bitch!’ Joe Watson stumbled up the steps and into the half-light of the scullery, one hand struggling with his falling trousers, and the other making a clumsy grab for the shawled figure which turned, startled, from the pantry door.

When Joe Watson’s bloodshot eyes caught sight of the woman’s disbelieving face, he almost fell back out of the door with astonishment. ‘Mam!’ His voice was incredulous.

In a second, he was frantically drawing up his trousers, apologizing profusely and entreating Tilly, ‘I didn’t know what I were saying, Mam, honest! I’ve sunk too many jars at the ale house… went into the yard for a pee and… I must’a fell over or sommat.’

Tilly was having none of it! So! Here was the reason for Molly fleeing into the night. This bugger had tried it on. Frightened her. Made her feel it wouldn’t be safe to stay where she was easy game. ‘Why! You filthy swine, our Joe!’ Tilly was incensed that a lad of hers could take advantage of somebody who’d come to this door for shelter. ‘Bloody men! You’re all the same… look at a woman and all you see is a bare arse!’

Time and again Tilly lashed out at the hapless fellow, who was losing the battle to hold up his trousers with one hand and fend her fierce blows off with the other. ‘Well, she’s run off to London Town!… You’ve frightened the poor little sod away. So, now you can work a bloody sight harder and feed the three extra mouths she’s left behind in my care. And you’d better hope she comes back for them sooner rather than later.’ With each word she landed a resounding clap round his ears. ‘’Cause they’re not going short of nowt, d’you hear? Molly’s three are to be treated the very same as my own, for as long as they’re under this roof. D’you hear? You fornicating bugger!’ She pushed him aside and angrily slammed and bolted the back door. ‘Get out of my sight. You’re not only drunk… You’re shameful. Shameful! That’s what you are!’ She grabbed up the oil-lamp and swept past him, pushing him away with a look of disgust when it seemed he might fall against her. ‘You want to thank your lucky stars that your dad ain’t here to see this day, Joe Watson,’ she called on her way through the parlour, ‘because the thrashing I just gave you wouldn’t be nothing to what you’d have had from him! He were a good man. Not the sort to take advantage of an unfortunate young woman deserted by her old man and left with three bairns to worry about. Well, now you can worry about them, can’t you, eh?… Till their mammy’s able to fetch them away!’

Alone in the darkness of the scullery, Joe Watson leaned unsteadily against the wall, cold and aching in every inch of his body, both from the time he had spent crumpled at the foot of the steps, and from the angry attack made on him by Tilly.