Mick was still chuckling to himself as he entered the building. Some moments later, he was face to face with Marlow Tanner, a fine able-bodied fellow of some forty years and more, with sincere dark eyes and hair as black as coal. For a fleeting moment, Mick was put in mind of Molly’s own similar dark features, and his heart ached a little.

‘Sit down, Mr Darcy.’ Marlow Tanner recalled greeting the young man earlier, and he had already guessed the nature of his urgent visit. ‘No doubt you’re wondering where you stand now that the year’s secured work is almost finished?’ When Mick answered that yes, this was so, Marlow Tanner immediately put him out of his misery by reassuring him, ‘There’ll always be work for them as wants it.’

As the discussion got underway, Mick’s admiration and respect for this man was increased by the minute. He was pleasantly surprised at how quickly the older man put him at his ease. His surprise, however, would have turned to astonishment if he had known that Marlow Tanner was Molly’s father.

There were things of the past that neither of them was aware of. Not Mick, nor Marlow. Nor certainly Molly, who had long given up the idea of ever finding her true parents.

Chapter Four

It was Christmas Eve. Blackburn Market had been a hive of activity all day long, but now the snow, which had been gently falling since late morning, was beginning to settle more thickly on the cobbles. Overhead the sky was grey with the promise of more severe weather.

As the snow grew thicker, the crowd of shoppers grew steadily thinner, with people cringing from the cold, scurrying away to the warmth of their own cheery firesides. Seeing their customers hastily depart, a number of stall-holders began to pack up their wares and load the waiting carts which would carry them home. The more seasoned and determined merchants, however, stood their ground, their lusty cries desperately tempting the remaining shoppers to ‘Get yer hot chestnuts ’ere, missus’ or ‘rabbits for the Christmas pot… skinned and ready’. For those whose purses were fatter there was the offer of ‘fresh, plump turkeys to grace any lady’s table’.

At the sight of a well-heeled and expensively attired gentlewoman standing not six feet away, the man with the turkeys saw a likely customer and at once began besieging her with umpteen reasons as to why ‘yer daren’t go home without one, missus!’ He was instantly struck dumb when back came a sharp retort in a broad Cockney voice, ‘And I daren’t bleedin’ well go home with one, neither… else I’d be flung out the kitchen and no mistake!’ Nelly might have gone on to explain that Emma would not thank her for interfering in what was Cook Parker’s domain. But the outburst had provoked much laughter from the shoppers within hearing distance, so she merrily winked at the astonished stallholder and wandered away to continue her browsing, finally coming to rest at the bric-à-brac stall where she purchased a small quantity of pretty coloured lace.