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She was bad enough about Eileen, but Briony, her Briony, she’ll be like a madwoman. She was all for going for Mrs Prosser Evans over Eileen.’
    Paddy had the satisfaction of seeing Dumas pale at the words. Mrs Prosser Evans was a force to be reckoned with in Barking and Dagenham, fighting for justice for the lower classes with a vigour that surprised everyone who came in contact with the tiny woman.
    Paddy watched the man battle it out with himself.
    Mrs Prosser Evans and a scandal, or a little red-headed child just on ten for a paltry weekly sum. It was no contest.
    ‘Three pounds a week it is then. Bring her round to me at six this evening and you can take the other ...’ He waved his hand as he tried to think of the child’s name.
    ‘Eileen, I can collect my Eileen.’
    Without wasting any more words, Paddy put his hat on and left the office. He picked up his coat from his workbench and walked out of the factory and along towards The Bull. Inside he ordered himself a large whisky, which he downed in one gulp. Wiping his mouth with the back of his grimy hand he laid his head on the bar and groaned out loud against the fates.
    It never occurred to him not to take Briony. Three pounds a week was three pounds a week.
    Molly was dishing up the dinner when Paddy rolled in the door. ‘What the hell are you doing home at this time?’
    Paddy grabbed her around her waist, breathing his whisky breath all over her. She drew away from him in disgust.
    ‘Get away out of that!’
    Kerry giggled. Taking the hot wooden spoon from the large earthenware pot, Molly smacked her across the hands with it. Kerry licked off the juices from the rabbit stew.
    Briony sat at the table expectantly, feeding Rosalee. She was the only one with the patience. You had to force the food inside her at times.
    ‘Bri ... Bri.’ Rosalee was catching hold of Briony’s hair and calling to her gently. She leant forward and kissed the big moon face. Rosalee started clapping her hands together in excitement.
    Paddy watched them and felt a tug at his heart.
    ‘Well? Answer me, what brings you home at this time?’
    ‘Mr Dumas sent for me.’ He sat on the broken chair as he spoke.
    ‘What about? Is it Eileen? Is she sickening?’
    ‘No, woman. Nothing like that. Bejasus, would you let a man talk without wittering into his conversation?’
    ‘Well, what’s wrong then?’
    ‘He’s had enough of her. I’m to go and fetch her tonight.’
    Molly pushed back her hair and her face, red and shiny from the cooking, looked relieved.
    ‘I’ll be glad to have the child home safe.’
    Paddy got out of the chair and swept his arm out in a gesture of disgust.
    ‘Oh, she’ll be safe all right, here, ’cos this is where we’ll be staying now, isn’t it? She’ll be safe when the real winter comes, and the shite’s bursting into the room, and the cold would cut the lugs from yer. Two pounds a bloody week we’ll lose, two Christing pounds! She’s up there, dressed up to the nines and eating her fecking head off as and when she fancies it. Well, she’ll get a shock when she gets back here, madam. She’ll have to go out to work, they all will, if we’re to get the house in Oxlow Lane. Even that fecking eejit.’ He pointed to Rosalee.
    Molly sat on the fender and tapped the wooden spoon against her hand.
    ‘There’s that to it, I suppose.’ All her dreams were dissolving in front of her eyes, of a nice little house, two up, two down, with a bit of garden out the back, and no more living in basements without enough to eat. Instead it was no more boots for the girls or tea for herself, as and when she wanted it. Once going to Uncle every Tuesday with the blankets and sheets and anything else pawnable had been their way of life, until Paddy brought home some money. Now it would be again, it seemed.
    ‘Well, woman, it’s done now and I expect you’ve saved yourself a bit, to see us over until the spring?’
    Molly didn’t answer. As far as Paddy