Of a sudden Molly thought of Mick and was instantly beset by feelings of guilt. If she had taken up his kind invitation, their Christmas would have been that much brighter; there would have been proper food on the table, maybe even a fat, proud turkey. Little Sal would have had a tree. Molly quickly dismissed the pang of guilt. In her heart she believed that she had done right to turn down Mick’s offer that she and the children spend Christmas aboard his barge; she had done right to tell him a lie, that Tilly Watson from next door had got there with an invitation before him, and that she had already accepted; so how could she be so ungrateful as to turn the woman down now, she had argued, after all the work she had put herself to? Like the gentleman he was, Mick had reluctantly agreed. ‘I did do right!’ Molly muttered under her breath. After all, what if she was enjoying a hearty Christmas in another fellow’s home and Jack were to come back, only to find the house cold and empty. It wouldn’t be right. Molly didn’t fool herself that Jack was likely to come home laden with presents, but that didn’t bother her none; Jack himself would be the best Christmas present, and the children would have their daddy for Christmas. Mick had been disappointed, but he’d get over it soon enough, she decided. Besides which, there were two other reasons why she could never have accepted. Firstly, the birthing was too near. Then there was this thing about Mick and her: him trying so desperately to hide his feelings for her when she only had to look in his eyes and his love was shining there like a beacon for all to see. It made her feel bad and uncomfortable. As though his pain was all her fault. Well, it wasn’t, she told herself now, and much as she valued Mick’s friendship, it might be better all round if she were to steer clear of him from now on.

A short time later, after filling their hessian bag with bruised but still edible titbits collected from the cobbles, Molly and little Sal were busy foraging for the longest branches from beneath the Christmas tree stall. Of a sudden, something happened to take Molly unawares and to put the fear of God in her. Something that triggered off a series of tragic events which no one, not even Molly, could have foreseen.

Having completed her small shopping expedition, Nelly was preparing to make her way home. The square was fast becoming deserted, and already the scavenging animals were slinking in to devour any juicy morsels that might be left lying beneath the food stalls. Feeling the effects of the cutting breeze that nipped at her face and froze her fingers, Nelly hurried towards the other side of the square, to where a line of horse-drawn carriages waited along Victoria Street for any would-be passengers. It was when Nelly stopped to glance about and make sure there were no traders’ carts hurtling in her direction that she caught sight of the two bent figures busily collecting the strewn Christmas tree branches. ‘It’s her!’ she muttered aloud. ‘The very gal I’ve been searching for!’ So excited was she that, in a moment, she might have called out. But caution and instinct warned her not to, for fear the young woman and her child were frightened off. Good Lord, Nelly told herself as she went on wary steps towards where Molly and little Sal were preparing to leave with their precious hoard, Emma would never forgive me if she knew I’d caught sight of the creature and then lost her.