The last time Molly had been two weeks in arrears with the rent, he had made a lewd and improper suggestion. Nauseated by his proposition, Molly had worn herself to a frazzle that week, humping and shifting crates from early morning to when the market shut down. By the time she had paid the arrears and given Tilly a small sum for minding the children, there had been precious little left for food and fuel. Sometimes Molly despaired. Now she had the added burden of Tom’s awful handicap. It was a combination of all these things that had made up her mind. She wasn’t proud of her plans, not at all, because she intended to rob the fattest wallets and steal the most handsome fob watches, in order to accumulate enough money so she could take Tom to see a doctor who could put his leg to rights. She was even prepared to sell her precious gold clasp if it proved to be necessary. That particular prospect was the most daunting of all.

As Molly passed the Church of All Saints, she quickened her step and averted her eyes, while murmuring softly, ‘I know it’s wrong, Lord, and I’m sorry… but it was you that gave my boy a crippled body! You’ve left it to me to put right. And, if you don’t mind me saying so… it’s better if I steal than to earn money the way my landlord would have me do!’ To Molly’s thinking, she was employing the lesser of two evils, and she considered that there must be some small merit in that.

Hurrying along the cobbled alleys, by way of Hart Street and Cicely, Molly’s thoughts were drawn to two men in her life: Jack, the husband she still foolishly adored, and the bargee, Mick, who foolishly adored her. How different they are, she mused. And isn’t it cruel the way Fate stirs things up into such an unhappy muddle. Molly was unpleasantly aware how Mick kept creeping up in her mind of late. In fact there were times when he, and not Jack, figured prominently in her thoughts. It frightened and worried her. She might be presently deserted by her husband, but she had grown accustomed to that and as a rule he always came home after a while. And she might be a thief, but to tell the truth, Molly could see little alternative in the circumstances. She was poor, and often desperate. That could not be denied. But she was not the kind of woman to go cap in hand to anyone. Neither was she the kind of woman to go from man to man, in exchange for a degree of security. She was a very simple and straightforward being, with an equally uncomplicated view on life: although he lacked a certain strength of character, Jack was her husband, and she loved him. But that was not to say he wouldn’t get the length of her tongue when he did come creeping back! Until then, it was up to her to do the best for the children that it was in her power to do. Thanks be to the Lord, she was young and healthy, with a strong enough back to carry the particular load he had placed on it. As for Mick, well he was just a friend. A very special friend, there was no arguing. But Molly had every intention that he must remain only that.