Suddenly aware of the painful sobbing that filled the room and touched his sorry heart, Jack lifted his gaze towards the bed. Molly was looking at him: her big, black eyes were the most tragic he had ever seen and her tears were like purgatory to him. When she began to speak, he ventured forward. ‘Look at him, Jack,’ she pleaded brokenly, ‘look at your son… our son.’ The sorrow in her voice hung in the air like an enveloping vapour. ‘Don’t be afraid, Jack. Don’t turn away from him… please don’t turn from him.’ For an endless moment she was silent, then in a painful whisper she told him, ‘I needed you… why weren’t you here?’

‘Oh, Molly, can you ever forgive me?’ He sat beside her, holding their son between them and reaching out a comforting hand. ‘I’m no good for you, Molly… but I do love you. You know that, don’t you?’ Molly knew. He was here and that was enough. For now. Together they held the innocent babe. Together they cried. Together they took comfort from each other; but not even her beloved Jack’s presence could dull the awful bitterness in Molly’s heart when she had seen how dreadfully crippled their son was. It was too savage, too unfair. Yet hadn’t she known all along that something was wrong? Known it, and been afraid. She told Jack as much now. ‘Why weren’t you with me?’ she murmured again, but deep in her heart she knew it would have made no difference to the outcome.

‘There are two kinds of men in this world, Molly my love,’ Jack said. ‘There’s the kind a woman can rely on to watch out for her and his kids… he’ll provide for them and see them through the bad times. Then there’s the likes of me.’ He sighed and drew her closer. ‘Like I said, Molly, I’m no good and I never will be. Oh, I love you and the kids right enough… but I’m too much of a coward to face up to my responsibilities. If I was anything of a man, I’d leave this house and never show my face again. Because if I was to stay and try as hard as ever I could, to be the man you deserve, I know it wouldn’t work, Molly. I’d only end up making your life that much more miserable.’ When she made no reply, he buried his head in her shoulder and for a while they remained silent, each lost in their own particular thoughts; she with her face pressed close to that of her child, and he with his arm embracing the two of them.

Molly offered the child her breast milk, but it had small appetite and soon, exhausted and emotionally spent, she drifted into a fretful sleep. For a while, Jack watched her and the infant. But he could not bring himself to touch it again. When it began softly whimpering, he fetched Tilly Watson. ‘Don’t wake Molly,’ he told her, ‘let the lass sleep.’ After that, he went to the boozer on the corner. The tall, boldly-painted floozy had gone, so he emptied every coin from his pocket on to the counter. ‘Let the booze run till the money’s all gone,’ he instructed the barman. Word had spread fast about Molly’s crippled bairn, and the landlord understood Jack’s forlorn mood.