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with what she considered to be the cause of it. ‘Ye slapped him good, Emma!’ she cried, jubilantly lashing the air with her fists. ‘Fetched him a right bleedin’ clap aside o’ the ear, y’did.’ She was beside herself with excitement, and though Emma made every effort to remain above it all, she could only sustain her indignation as far as the old cemetery, when she paused, breathless, against some unfortunate soul’s headstone. ‘Oh, Nelly, Nelly!’ she said, the smile already creeping into her eyes and lifting the comers of her mouth. ‘I’m supposed to be the sensible one, who keeps you on the straight and narrow.’ The smile broke into a small laugh.
    ‘And you do ,’ Nelly assured her, pausing to catch her breath from the fast and furious pace with which Emma had propelled her from the fracas on the beach. ‘It’s just a bloody shame that being kept on the “straight and narrer” don’t allow fer a bit o’ fun! Just now and then . . . I might like ter throw caution ter the wind and join forces wi’ the devil.’ When Emma rightfully reminded her that in encouraging a grog-sodden lout like Foster Thomas she was doing just that, Nelly retorted, ‘Handsome devil, though, eh?’ And in her twinkling brown eyes was a deep thinking expression which Emma had not seen before.
    Nelly’s remark both astonished and disturbed Emma very deeply. But she made no comment, other than to say it must be coming up to curfew time and they should be on their way.
    No sooner had Emma made the observation than the curfew bell rang out, warning all bonded persons that they must be off the street. Emma hoped she and Nelly would not be challenged by an officer because, while she herself was able to show her ticket-of-leave, Nelly was already under suspicion, and being caught out even one minute after curfew could well cost her dear. As the two of them hurried towards Thomas’s store, Emma led the way round the back streets, fearful that at any minute an officer would come upon them. Every now and then there would ring out the challenge, ‘Bond or free?’ as others, less artful, were stopped in the busier streets adjacent. Only when Emma had manoeuvred Nelly on to the porch of the store did she breathe a sigh of relief.
    ‘You really do play fast and loose with the law, don’t you?’ came the thin, tired voice from a wicker chair in the far corner where the trellis was much higher. Mrs Thomas was very rarely persuaded to come and sit out of an evening, but, when she did, it was on three conditions: it had to be past curfew ‘when the criminals amongst us are safely out of the way’; it had to be almost twilight so she could sit in the shadows; and, her high-backed wicker chair had to be positioned securely in that particular corner where the trellis was highest, so the shadows would be that much deeper. Now, when her voice piped out on the sultry evening air, Emma gave a start . . . her heart still beating fast from the fear that she and Nelly would be stopped after curfew.
    ‘Oh, Mrs Thomas!’ she gasped, putting her hand to her heart. ‘You gave me a fright.’
    ‘And you gave me a right turn an’ all!’ joined in Nelly, whose face had gone an odd shade of parchment.
    ‘Well now, I am sorry,’ laughed Mrs Thomas, and Emma likened the sound of her laughter to the soft tinkling of the water in the Leeds and Liverpool Canal back home; that gentle, delightful sound that was made with the smooth passage of a laden barge as it gently churned up the water beneath. But then, everything was ‘gentle’ about poor Mrs Thomas. She was a tiny pathetic creature now, sitting in that high-backed chair like a duchess of old, or a china doll who was much too frail and exquisite to play with. Emma thought that Violet Thomas must have been a very beautiful lady when she was young, for she had finely sculptured bones and long delicate fingers. Her hair, though snow-white now, was still rich and thick with deep attractive