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have had this trouble, would we? And it's no good bowing your head like that. You've got to see him and his people; they've got to take the responsibility."
    "I can take the responsibility. I can go out to work and ... " Don't be silly, girl. And anyway, I'm not thinking so much of you now but of the child. Have you any idea what it's like to have an illegitimate child? The proper name for one is a bastard. D'you hear that? a
    bastard. There's one halfway along this lane. She was made to feel different from when she first went to school. And her mother is known as a bad lot. Whether she is or not I don't know, but her neighbours fight shy of her. Years ago they even tried to get her out of the house. But her mother owned it and now she owns it, and she defies them. Perhaps you've seen her strutting down this road dressed like a peacock. Her girl is eighteen now. They say she's very bright, but what's she doing? She's in the packing room at the factory. She's likely stamped because she can't have a proper birth certificate, though why they should want a birth certificate for that, I don't know.
    She'll find it difficult to get a decent man to marry her though. "
    "Perhaps she doesn't want to marry. I don't want to marry anybody. Do you hear? I don't, Mam, never!"
    "Don't talk stupid, girl." Lizzie turned away, and pointing to the wardrobe, said, "Get your hat and coat on."
    "I don't, Mam. Do you hear? I don't."
    Slowly Lizzie now turned about and looked at her white-faced, wide-eyed daughter, and she said quietly, "You don't know what you're talking about. You haven't even started to live yet. You've tasted something that'll be a torment to you in a very short time, and without marriage you won't be able to have it, unless you become a loose woman. So shut up! girl." Her voice had risen now, and she ended, "No more talk.
    Get your things on and come downstairs."
    "I... I won't. I'll go and see Great-gran. She'll ..."
    "Huh!"
    Lizzie stood holding the door and looking sadly at her child as she interrupted her, saying ruefully, "Your great-gran might be more up-to-date than next year's newspaper, but where respectability comes in, let me tell you, your dad doesn't hold a candle to her. If you want to know, it's her express wish that you get married and as quickly as possible."
    "T'isn't. She wouldn't, not ... not Great-gran."
    "Yes, Great-gran.
    Go on, confront her with it' she jerked her head to the side'I'm not stopping you. The only thing is, I don't want you to change your opinion of her because, as you are always saying, she's with it . Now, let's have no more of it. " And lowering her voice, she went on, "
    You've got to go and see this boy. If you don't, your father will go, and imagine what'll happen then. He's only staying his hand because I told him Gran's opinion, and that he had better leave it to me . "
    They went out and down the stairs, and were crossing the hall making for the front door when Lizzie's mother appeared from the dining-room, saying, "Oh, I've caught you. I thought you were gone. Look; would you call at the chemist and pick up my prescription? Just hang on a minute and I'll get it."
    "We are not going that way, Mother."
    Victoria Pollock stopped. Her mouth had gone into a grim line, and her hands now going on to her hips, her usual stance when annoyed, she said, "Nobody's ever going that way when I want anything done. It's Mother this. Mother that, or it's Victoria, do this, Victoria, do that, but when Victoria wants anything done, nobody's going that way."
    Lizzie had paused but did not answer her mother;
    she just cast a side-long glance at her before nudging Peggy again towards the door, and she followed her out and down the three steps, on to the drive that curved between an avenue of trees to the main gate, and she immediately took in the fact that Peter Boyle, the part-time gardener, was mounting his bike.
    She looked at her wrist-watch. It showed a quarter to five, and he wasn't supposed to