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And Becky?
    She scrambled off the bed, stuffed her suitcase, flew downstairs and over to the shop. The shutters were down, and she knocked on the door next it.
    â€œThe bairn’s near asleep,” Mattie whispered, and closed the door softly behind her. He led her upstairs and stood aside to motion her into a room.
    Elsie sat in an armchair, cradling Becky, rocking her gently and humming.
    Heather whispered “Hello.” She’d stay out of the picture and let Becky fall asleep. But the infant jerked up to look towards her and started crying.
    â€œYou have the bairn, m’dear.”
    The infant cuddled in close. This was stirring something in Heather – joy, fulfilment as a mother. Affirmation, at a time she needed a boost – and a sensation that would help sustain her through the nigh-sleepless hours ahead.
    The rich aroma needed action. Holding Becky with one arm, she got a nappy from the case, while Elsie went to fill the nappy bucket with water and steriliser.
    â€œPut the bairn there, m’dear.” Elsie pointed at the settee, laying out a sheet.
    â€œThanks.” She laid Becky on the settee and removed the sodden and hugely soiled cloth – inhaling the odour. This aroma in nappy changing was special, a perfume only Becky could produce.
    â€œI’ll put the mess down the lav,” said Elsie, disappearing with the soiled nappy and returning to drop it in the nappy bucket.
    Heather put the fresh nappy on and reached for the safety pin. Her eyes blurred. That evening she’d come home from hospital, exhausted. John nuzzled Becky, then held the babe in the air. “She pongs. I’ll sort it – been practising for this.” He put the clean nappy on correctly, then yelled “Ouch,” drew back and sucked his bloodied thumb. He laughed. “Practice didn’t include a safety pin.” He completed the task, then hugged her close. She couldn’t manage a smile. But she wouldn’t be alone in caring for their baby. He’d be a brilliant dad. And so he had been.
    â€œWhat’s up, m’dear?”
    She brushed her sleeve over her cheeks. She didn’t want to talk about this. “Nothing.” Forcing a smile, she picked up Becky and dandled her in front of Elsie.
    â€œMattie’ll get fish and chips for tea,” said Elsie. “What would you like, m’dear?”
    Such kindness. She nuzzled her face into Becky’s midriff to wipe her own eyes. “Thanks, but I couldn’t eat anything.” True – the bile was in her stomach. “I’m tired. I’ll feed Becky, then go to bed, if that’s okay.”
    Elsie nodded. “M’dear, that makes sense to me.”
    Heather cajoled Becky into swallowing a few spoonfuls, then followed Elsie to the dimly lit ‘spare room’. Warmer than expected, thanks to a one-bar electric fire.
    Elsie whispered, “If you need anything in the night, give us a shout. We’re in the room over the landing. Night-night and God bless.”
    In the crib sat a teddy with large brown eyes and outstretched arms. How thoughtful of Elsie. She lowered Becky gently into the crib. “Teddy,” she whispered, holding up the bear. “Becky – nice cuddle.” Her child clasped the teddy and lay hugging it.
    She sat on the bed alongside the crib, crooning softly until, surprisingly (as teething had been a problem lately), Becky dozed off.
    Heather slipped into bed. The soft mattress, well sprung, unlike their aging second-hand one, felt warm. Yes, a hot-water-bottle.
    She was being treated like a favourite daughter, the prodigal returning. She’d known the pair only through her shopping, and now they were her best friends.
    She lay awake. Was John mad? Would he get better? Would he be tormented by lunatics? Would he be cooped up forever? She didn’t hear of people coming out of there. Was this the end for their relationship – how could she and