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had occasional boyfriends. These were casual flings that never lasted, perhaps due to her age but more likely because of the attitude of Jessie, a matriarchal figure once the front door was closed. She seemed to view her younger daughter’s purpose in life as solely to bring about the betterment of the family as a whole. She would use the youngster as a key to unlock a treasure chest.
    ‘The relationships would spring up and then fade after only a few weeks because Jessie could not see that Hannah was desperate to bring feeling, love, into her own existence,’ a friend said. ‘She’d announce some local young man or other had asked her out and Jessie would ask, “What’s he do?” Hannah might say, “He’s a butcher,” and her mother would reply, “Oh, a butcher, is he? Stay with him, bring him in for a bite of tea and he might bring us a parcel with some meat in it.”
    ‘If the young man did so, Jessie would say, “Hannah, you’re not to give him up, not as long as the meat lasts anyway.” When the parcels petered out, she’d tell her, “Can’t you find yourself an electrician? We need these lights fixed,” or even, “Never mind what they look like, if they have a trade or can get their hands on things for the house, bring them along and make them welcome. Prince Charmings are for fairy stories, they don’t put food on the table or mend a burst pipe.”
    ‘She met Joseph after her mother died. Jessie would have been over the moon because at first he was an assistant at a fishmonger’s, but he later went to work at the Hoover factory in the next workshop to Hannah. It meant they would see each other every day. She fell head over heels for him and understood, for the first time, what it was like to be really fond of someone. She’d kept all his cards, those he sent for her 19th birthday on 14 December 1968, at Christmas and for Valentine’s Day the following February, even taking them out sometimes so she could show them to us. Hannah was so proud. There had been other boyfriends, but this was the real thing as far as she was concerned. He was the love of her life. Some weekends, Hannah would stay at his mum’s and his mother got on really well with her. As far as Hannah was concerned, she and Joseph were engaged and would marry.
    ‘Sex was something you just did not talk about, certainly not the act of sex anyway. If you went home with a guy, your pals would be asking you afterwards in whispers “Did he kiss you?” or “Did he cuddle you?” That was as far as it was expected to go. Was Hannah aware of what sex was about, what it involved and what could be the outcome? Did she know how babies were made, because attitudes in the ’60s were far less liberated than they are 40 years on? Had she discussed the subject of sex even with close friends? In each case, the answer was probably no. The thing, then, was that you knew a little bit, you knew the word “sex” and you knew what was supposed to happen once your husband and you took off your clothes and climbed into bed, but it wasn’t meant to happen until you were married. You were supposed to be a “nice” girl and keeping yourself pure until you were married was sometimes the first and last line of defence when a man tried it on.’
    Hannah Martin had saved herself for Joseph, but she was about to discover her investment in maidenly virtue would pay a bitter return. Casually strolling along the street one midweek afternoon, Hannah chanced upon an old friend. Joseph had said he would be unable to take her out that weekend as he had another engagement, which she assumed was probably work, so she asked the friend if she fancied a trip to the Barrowland on the Friday night.
    ‘Sorry, can’t,’ came the reply.
    ‘You going out somewhere?’
    The friend was clearly disconcerted. ‘I just can’t, Hannah, sorry.’
    ‘Well, come on, you got a boyfriend hidden away?’
    ‘No, it’s not that.’
    ‘Well, what is it? You can tell me, I keep