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what she should do. At least she would be telling the truth and that in itself would be a relief. And it would show Brian that not only had she not been after his money, but she wasn’t the type of girl that just slept with anyone who happened to appear at Mrs Mellors’ stall. She loved him. That was all that had mattered and was all that mattered still.
    As soon as she got back to her flat, she sat down and concentrated on writing an absolutely truthful letter, just as Evie had told her to. It stirred up emotions that she had been keeping in check and she wept over the paper. But she finished it and hurried to post it before her nerve failed her.
    ‘There, it’s done,’ she thought as it disappeared into the post box. Too late she realised that she should have sent it by airmail. It would have been quicker, but what did speed matter? He would get it eventually.
    ‘I’ll have to forget about it now,’ she thought. That was the main thing. She was lucky that Mrs Mellors would let her go on working at the stall as usual right up to the birth. And afterwards she could have the pram behind the stall and still work while she looked after the baby.
    ‘I’ll always be there to help all I can, Jessie,’ Mrs Mellors assured her. She still wanted Jessica to sell the flat above the market, of course, and buy one in Vale of Lennox. All right, Vale of Lennox was a lovely place and she already knew quite a few of the stall holders who lived there, so she would still be among friends. The market and the Calton were her life, however. She couldn’t imagine giving them up.
    ‘You’d still be working in the Barras every weekend just the same,’ Mrs Mellors insisted.
    ‘I know, I know. But it’s my flat and I’ve still all the memories of my mother and father there.’
    Mrs Mellors rolled her eyes. ‘You shouldn’t cling to the past like that. It’s not natural and it’s not good for you, Jessie.’
    Jessica shrugged. ‘I can’t help it. Maybe one day, I don’t know. But not now.’
    Mrs Mellors began knitting baby clothes, not just for the stall but for Jessica as well. She refused to take any payment.
    ‘Would I charge my own daughter?’ she asked. ‘And I keep telling you you’re like a daughter to me. I couldn’t ask for a better wee lassie.’
    Jessica didn’t feel so guilty when – partly due to her hard work and persuasiveness, as well as the good quality of the garments – the stall was doing extremely well. Mrs Mellors was in fact, as she said herself, making a fortune. Most of the stall holders made a very good living. Not everyone was as honest as Mrs Mellors, of course. There were also the men who sold stolen cigarettes and illegal DVDs. They went around shouting ‘Cheap fags and DVDs!’ if no policemen were around. If there were any police in the area, the men would go around whispering ‘Cheap fags and DVDs.’
    Jessica tried to put the letter and Brian out of her mind. At least her morning sickness had stopped and she felt physically fit. Sometimes she even felt happy because of the baby. She began to make plans for it, for them both.
    Then one day the postman delivered a letter – an airmail letter. Jessica knew right away that it must be from Brian. Who else in the world would be likely to send her an airmail letter?
    She stood with it in her hand for a very long time before she gathered enough courage to open it.

7
    Jessica danced wildly around the room, around the whole flat. She waved the letter out of the kitchen window and called to the market below.
    ‘He loves me. He loves me. He loves me the same as I love him.’
    Not only that. He wanted to marry her.
    ‘We’ll get married on my next leave,’ he’d written. ‘And don’t worry. I won’t expect you to leave your flat or the Calton. You can stay in your lovely flat as long as you like. I can be there with you every minute of every leave.’
    What could be better in the whole world? She couldn’t wait to tell Mrs Mellors. She