‘I see.’ That would explain why he hadn’t shared a berth with one of these barges before. ‘But didn’t he lose the contract this side, if he shifted operations like that?’

‘Naw… he’s too bloody canny a businessman for that,’ remonstrated the old one. Of a sudden, he was eyeing Mick’s barge alongside. ‘That yourn, is it?’

‘It is.’

‘And you’ve been working this particular stretch… ferrying cotton to the Liverpool Docks?’

‘I have.’

The old one laughed out loud. ‘Then you’ve been paid by Tanner… just like the rest of us… and all these single barge-owners hereabouts.’

Mick shook his head. ‘No, old man. You’ve got it wrong… my pay packet comes from the owner of that there mill.’ He pointed to the very building into which he had seen Marlow Tanner disappear. Suddenly, the light began to dawn. ‘Well, I never…! Are you saying he owns the mill?’

Thoroughly enjoying himself, the old fellow gleefully pointed out how Marlow Tanner had not only secured every available barge-owner for the period of one year, but when the owner of the largest cotton mill loudly protested at what he claimed was a ‘threat to free enterprise’, he promptly bought the mill as well! ‘Made the fellow an offer he’d a’ been a fool to turn down.’

As Mick went thoughtfully back to his own barge, two things crossed his mind. One was paramount in his reckoning. If his own services had been secured for a year – which they had – and if the Tanner barges were now back in force – which they seemed to be – how long would it be before he was summoned to Marlow Tanner’s office and told he was no longer needed? It was a daunting prospect, especially since the fellow was also busy buying up the mills that had hitherto supplied a living to the likes of himself.

Deeply concerned, Mick decided not to wait for Tanner to lay him off. He still had a living to make, and he wanted to make it here in these parts, where he could keep an eye on Molly. No, he couldn’t afford to wait. The matter had to be settled. The sooner the better, to his mind. Straightaway, Mick changed his direction and went hastily towards the mill office.

The other matter that had crossed his mind was the name Tanner. Surely it couldn’t have a link to the old woman who had raised Molly from a child? No, he told himself. Old Sal Tanner was a drunk, a tramp who had no one but Molly… or so he had heard. He’d better watch his tongue, if he were to obtain more work from this fellow. Besides, Tanner was a common name hereabouts. He laughed softly to himself. The very idea that a mill owner, a wealthy fellow such as Marlow Tanner, was in any way connected with an old soak who imagined that ‘the little people’ had brought Molly to her, well, if he didn’t want to be laughed at and run off the wharf, he’d best keep his foolish mouth shut!