‘Gorra penny ter spare, ’ave yer, darlin’?’ The thin and pitiful plea caused Molly to glance down. What she saw almost stopped her heart. It was a young man of about fourteen years, although he might have been older. It was difficult to tell, because he was horribly hunched at the shoulders and beneath the flat peaked cap, his narrow face was gaunt, with huge pleading eyes that stared up at Molly and touched her deep inside. He was seated on a makeshift trolley, just large enough to carry the small pathetic figure with only stumps for legs. In her horrified mind, Molly saw her own son, Tom. ‘Ain’t yer gorra penny ter spare fer a poor soul?’ he insisted.

At once, Molly reached beneath her shawl and drew out the purse there. ‘It’s all I have,’ she said quietly, giving it into his outstretched hand, ‘take it… and God bless.’ As she hurried away, the tight painful lump in her throat suddenly broke, and the tears welled in her eyes. She could feel the young man’s bulbous eyes staring after her, but she dared not look back. ‘That could be Tom,’ she whispered over and over. Her determination was resolved: it would not be Tom. NEVER! She wouldn’t allow it.

Molly quickened her steps towards the railway station. There were always easy pickings to be had wherever folks congregated. It was a known fact.

‘I wish you were coming with us, Nelly.’ Emma took her old friend into a loving embrace, holding her close for a while and gently patting the trembling shoulders, while she herself fought against the emotion of their parting. ‘But the time will fly… you’ll see. We’ll be back before you know it.’

Nelly drew away and began frantically fishing about inside her cape until, in a moment, she produced a bold, white handkerchief, with which she promptly dried her eyes and afterwards blew her nose. ‘Oh, don’t take no notice o’ me, Emma gal,’ she said with deliberate flourish. ‘I’m just an old mardie arse!’

Emma laughed, but it was a mirthless and sorry sound. ‘Just look at yourself!’ she gently chastised, smiling into Nelly’s round, brown eyes that were pink at the edges from crying since early morning, and at the strong, straight nose that was bright red and sore from the constant friction of the handkerchief. ‘You’ll only make yourself ill if you go on like that!’ There was genuine concern in her voice. It came to her, with a stab of astonishment, that since their first meeting in that prison cell more than twenty years ago, her impending trip to Australia would be the first and longest time that she and Nelly had been truly parted. ‘I know how you feel, Nelly,’ she murmured now, ‘don’t think I wanted to leave you behind… Oh, Nelly! Why did you insist on remaining behind, if you knew it was going to upset you so?’

‘You know why!’ Nelly exclaimed, hating the idea of Emma going all the way to Australia, but fearing even more the thought of going herself.