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like Eva Barber or Muriel Price who went to pubs together and painted their faces. Only last week she had seen Mrs Gray and Mrs Weathergill from a few doors up spit at Eva as she’d passed them, and when she’d told her mam and da about it over dinner that night, her mam had pursed her lips and shaken her head, saying, ‘I’ve no sympathy for the lass. Anything she gets she’s brought on herself and that’s a fact. Different lad for every day of the week and staying out all night as often as not. She’ll be the death of her poor mother, you mark my words.’
     
    And when Billy had winked at her and said casually, ‘Eva’s not so bad, I was thinking of asking her out myself,’ their mam had rounded on him, her voice tight as she’d said, ‘Over my dead body, lad. Over my dead body. You’ll have a decent lass, pure, untouched, or she won’t be welcome in this house.’ Billy had laughed then and patted their mam on the hand. ‘Keep your pinny on, I was only funning. I wouldn’t touch Eva with a bargepole. Who’d want other men’s cast-offs anyway?’
     
    And now, thought Carrie, she was like Eva, defiled, dirty. She could still feel where Alec had touched her, hurt her, and she was all sticky between her legs, and with all that lot in the house she couldn’t even have a washdown.
     
    ‘Carrie, come on, lass, get up out of it, you’ll catch your death.’ David was kneeling beside her and he reached out to help her up.
     
    Carrie surprised them both by the fierceness with which she said, ‘Don’t touch me, don’t you dare touch me.’
     
    David froze and for a moment there was absolute silence, only the sound of faint laughter and voices from within the house breaking the stillness. ‘What’s the matter, lass?’ He spoke very quietly. ‘Someone hurt you?’
     
    Oh, she mustn’t let him guess, she mustn’t let anyone ever know. She forced herself to stand up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘I . . . I was silly, it’s my own fault. I had a drink, sloe gin, and it’s made me feel bad.’
     
    He had risen with her, and now, in the shadowed night, she was aware that he was peering at her and she was glad it was too dark to see clearly. ‘Is that all?’ he asked quietly after some seconds.
     
    Carrie drew in a deep, shuddering breath. ‘Aye, yes.’ She pushed her hair back from her face with a shaky hand. ‘Isn’t that enough?’
     
    David frowned. There was something wrong here, something not quite right. She might have been drinking but . . . ‘Look, lass, if there’s something else, you can tell me. We’re friends, aren’t we?’ He didn’t make the mistake of trying to touch her again.
     
    Carrie nodded slowly, her chin deep into her neck. What would David say if she told him what was in her mind at this moment? That lads, men, were a race apart, possessed of the power to so hurt and destroy that she didn’t feel she could ever refer to one as her friend again. ‘It’s just the drink,’ she muttered, willing him to go back into the house or to the privy which he must have been making for. ‘That’s all.’
     
    David stared at the bowed head and wished he could see her face. She was shivering so violently it was like someone with the ague but she didn’t seem to be aware of it. And it was obvious she wanted to be alone. But how could he leave her out here in this state? ‘You’re cold.’ He slipped off his suit jacket and placed it round her shoulders, careful that his hands made no contact with her flesh.
     
    The small act of kindness was nearly Carrie’s undoing. She gulped once and then again, her body aching and her heart sore. How could this have happened to her? It was Renee’s wedding day, it was supposed to be a happy day, wasn’t it? She licked her dry lips, her head pounding, and then visibly flinched as the back door opened. But then her father’s voice said, ‘Carrie? Is that you? Your mam an’ me was wonderin’ where you’d got