‘Quick, darling, run and fetch Tilly Watson… tell her to be as quick as ever she can!’ Molly fought against the gripping pains that raged through her with a vengeance before spasmodically ebbing away, leaving her breathless and bathed in a film of sweat. The bairn was fighting to be born and there wasn’t a moment to lose. It was the frantic chase through the market that had brought on the spasms, and at first Molly had hoped they might subside once she reached the relative safety of Dock Street, but, if anything, they had intensified. Molly’s churning thoughts came to dwell on the woman who had chased her and Sal through the market. A gentry, but with a voice and manner that contradicted her fancy clothes. Molly recalled the words she had shouted after them, ‘Stop, yer little fool… it’s a lady as wants ter talk ter you. Emma Grady as was, who’s Emma Tanner now!’

Molly knew she and little Sal had made a lucky escape, though she had wondered since whether the frantic run in her advanced condition had complicated matters for the poor mite inside her. Molly wasn’t certain, because she had long felt that things were going wrong. All the same it was unfortunate, and whether the circumstances had brought her labour about that much more quickly, she really did not know. What she did know was that she and little Sal had done right to take to their heels. ‘Emma Tanner,’ the woman had shouted, ‘Emma Grady as was.’

Molly’s fears were threefold. Firstly, she knew the name Tanner well enough. Marlow Tanner was a big name hereabouts. She also knew that he was the brother of old Sal Tanner, whom Molly had adored, and who had suffered a great deal of heartache when her younger brother, Marlow, had ‘gone orf to ’Merica ter seek ’is fortune’. Years she waited for him to return. Years of trouble and worry, when she never lost her faith in him. But when there came no word from him and she began to believe he had been ‘snatched from the face of the earth’, old Sal finally gave up hope of ever seeing him again. But she never blamed him, saying, ‘My lad wouldn’t desert me on purpose, Molly gal… if ’e ain’t able ter come back an’ see ’is old sister as fotched ’im up like both mam and dad to ’im, well… it’s ’cause the poor bugger’s lying dead on some foreign soil, or ’e’s been swallered up by the ocean!’

Now though, Molly knew better. Marlow Tanner had deserted old Sal, because some time back he’d returned to his roots and built up a big fleet of trading barges along the Leeds and Liverpool Canal. Molly had seen him many a time, and many a time she had been tempted to accuse him on old Sal’s behalf, and to tell him how his sister would have been buried in a pauper’s grave, but for her. She had stood by old Sal, while he had deserted the darling woman. But Molly couldn’t bring herself even to talk to him. She knew in her heart that old Sal would have forgiven him in a minute, but she never would! She loathed him; even the thought of conversing with him turned her stomach over.