‘Huh! You ain’t got no faith in me at all, have you, Mick Darcy?’ She returned his smile and there was a wonderful warmth between them, which made Molly nervous and put her on her guard. She drew the child away. ‘The little devil’s wet her pants,’ she warned, looking quickly aside when she saw the tenderness in those searching, amber eyes. ‘Thanks all the same, Mick,’ she said, starting her way towards the first step, ‘but she’s a bit touchy… teething she is… and she’ll happen kick up a fuss.’

‘Away with your excuses!’ he told her, encouraged by the sight of the little one holding out her arms to him. ‘Look there… the bairn’s no fool, she knows she’ll be safer with me,’ he laughed. Whereupon Molly graciously handed the child over and they all descended to the lower cabin.

A few moments later, Molly was seated on the bench by the table, with little Sal kneeling beside her. The smaller bairn was contentedly sleeping between two plump red cushions which Mick had carefully arranged in the narrow bunk that was just visible from the living quarters. Little Sal was growing excited by the increasing number of barges now navigating their way into the narrow waters fronting the many warehouses and cotton mills along Eanam Wharf; at the sight of each new arrival chugging in, little Sal would press her nose to the porthole and squeal with delight. From the galley, Mick could be heard whistling jauntily. Occasionally he would put his head round the wood panelling to reassure Molly and the girl, ‘Won’t be long now, my beauties… bacon and eggs, sunny side up.’ The delicious aroma of sizzling bacon soon permeated every corner of the barge.

‘You really don’t have to feed us,’ protested Molly, even though she hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days and her stomach was rumbling with hunger.

‘It’s my pleasure,’ he said, placing the hearty breakfast in front of her and little Sal, who suddenly lost all interest in the barges outside as she tucked into the meal with unashamed enthusiasm. ‘If you’d only let me, Molly… I would take on the responsibility of you and the two bairns tomorrow.’ His voice was quiet and serious as he studied her with imploring eyes.

‘Well, we ain’t your responsibility,’ Molly was quick to remind him. ‘We never could be… and you know it, Mick Darcy. These two little lasses and me… we belong to Jack.’ She lowered her gaze and patted herself below the waist, ‘Not forgetting the little one who’s not yet shown its face.’

‘Oh, Molly!’ He put his breakfast plate on the table and fell heavily on to the bench opposite. ‘He’s never left you with another?’

Molly nodded her head, and he could have sworn there was a merry twinkle in her black eyes. ‘It happened when he found his way home just before Easter… “recovering from a run of bad fortune”, he said… two weeks later he won a packet on the horses and went off to celebrate. I haven’t seen him since.’ She laughed out loud at the expression of horror on Mick’s face. ‘Oh, don’t fret yourself,’ she told him, beginning to enjoy her meal. ‘If my calculations serve me right, the bairn should arrive some time round Christmas Eve… What d’you think to that, eh? It’s not everybody as can look forward to such a special Christmas present, is it? Oh, and like as not, its daddy will have turned up long afore that.’