But now Joe Watson was angry too. And smarting. And deeply humiliated. There was something painfully belittling in being thrashed by a woman, even if it were his own mother and he couldn’t hit back, and even if he had deserved it! On top of all that he couldn’t forget how Molly herself had also belittled him. Joe Watson never dreamed the day would come when he was turned down by any woman, let alone one who must be starving for want of a fellow. ‘You bitch!’ he hissed into the darkness. A well of fury rose in him. ‘You bloody trash, Molly! I’ll not forgive you… and I’ll not forget how you’ve turned my own mother on me!’

Long after Tilly Watson’s gentle snoring sounded through the house, her eldest son lay on his couch downstairs, his anger and humiliation a burning pain inside him. His greatest fear was that the blokes at work or in the ale house might find out what had taken place here this night, and how he’d been so badly used by two women. If it was ever made public knowledge, his life would be made hell. The thought of all that had happened was like a sore inside him, a terrible hatred that simmered and spread until he could think of nothing but revenge.

Suddenly it came to him! And with such clarity that he was forced to sit upright in his bed, a smile of delight on his face, and a feeling of satisfaction in his wounded heart.

‘The brats!’ he cried in a whisper. ‘Molly’s three brats. So I’ll be the one to provide for them, will I?’ He chuckled. ‘Like bloody hell I will!’ He had no intention of doing any such thing. But how to rid himself of them, now that was another matter entirely.

Like a bolt from the blue it came to him. While mulling over the conversation he had overheard between his mother and Molly, Joe Watson was made to recall a name. A certain name that made even him shiver in spite of himself. Justice Crowther. Molly’s self-confessed sworn enemy. ‘Oho, Molly my darling… you’ll rue the day you ever stirred up trouble in this house!’ His laugh was awful to hear, but not so awful as his cruel intent.

‘But when’s me mammy coming back?… I want her to come back!’ Little Sal’s vivid blue eyes swam with tears as she looked up at Tilly beseechingly.

‘Aw look, sweetheart. If I’ve told you once this morning, I’ve told you a hundred times… your mammy won’t leave you here a minute longer than she has to.’ Tilly had been under siege from the girl’s questions ever since she’d got from her bed. She’d felt bad enough about leathering poor Joe the way she had; got up special early an’ all, to make friends with him, she had. Although her intention was to make it plain that she thoroughly disapproved of the way he’d behaved! All the same, she hadn’t behaved very well herself either, going at him like that. After all, he was a grown man now. No, she’d done wrong, and meant to tell him so. But when she came down, all ready to mend the rift between them, he weren’t there. The bugger had gone, and not even his snap-can with him. It worried Tilly, because Joe did a long, hard day at work. And if he had no snap-can with him, what would he have to eat, eh? After a while of fretting, Tilly decided that he must mean to come home at midday for sommat to eat. She’d talk to him then. Everything would be all right between them; she was sure of it. But then, she was not sure of it. ‘Oh, Sal… I’m telling you, your mammy’s only gone to get herself some work… and a place where you can all live.’ She was wearied by little Sal’s insistent questions, although she felt a deal of sympathy for the lass.