Before she took to her heels Molly flung the bunch of flowers in Caleb Crowther’s face, causing him to stagger backwards on to the seat with a great thump that rocked the carriage violently. This in turn startled the horses, which reared into the harness, whinnying and thrashing. They started forward at breakneck speed as terrified screams rent the air and fleeing bodies scattered in all directions.

When at last the unhappy ensemble came to rest some considerable distance on, Caleb Crowther struggled to the doorway where he peered up and down the street, cursing all the while and lashing out with his cane at anyone who ventured a helping hand. All he craved was to have the black-eyed vagabond in his grasp. But it was not to be on this occasion: Molly and her young ones were long gone. And safe. For the moment.

Heaping hell and damnation down on everybody’s heads, the trembling and furious Caleb Crowther fell back on to the carriage seat, threatening the hapless driver with all manner of charges should he be reckless enough to persist in demanding a fare. ‘Get me to Breckleton House, you fool!’ he ordered churlishly. ‘At a steady trot, or you’ll face the consequences!’

As they went sedately along, Caleb Crowther’s temper was not improved. He would not give Emma Tanner the satisfaction of seeing him so shaken, he mused. But she would keep. Until he could confront her with a cool and level head.

The court hearing had been set for early in January 1887, so for the remainder of this year he must carefully examine all the possibilities which would enable him to bring that particular vixen to heel. There was time enough. Besides, if he had learned anything at all during his dealings with the ‘lower’ orders, he had learned one thing above all else, and it was this: there were more ways than one to skin a cat!

Meanwhile, whatever Emma Tanner was up to at this moment, he hoped against hope that life would treat her badly and hound her with all manner of misfortune.

Molly was shocked. The news was awful and, even though she considered Emma Tanner to be her sworn enemy, Molly’s heart went out to her as Tilly Watson’s tale unfurled.

‘So there you are, Molly,’ concluded Tilly with a grave shake of her head, ‘it doesn’t matter whether you’re a lady or a washerwoman, rich or poor… when your child’s taken from you in such tragic circumstances, the pain is just the same for one as it is for the other.’ She leaned back in the horse-hair armchair and stared at Molly seated opposite, whose dark eyes were moist with tears. ‘You know, Molly… it’s a strange thing how life has a way of turning full circle.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Molly quietly, afterwards glancing at the door to make certain the children had not crept down from their bedroom. When Tilly had come in from next door to relate how Emma’s son had been killed in a shocking accident, Molly had quickly taken the girls away to their beds. There was enough heartache in their little world without them listening to others’ tragedies.