Pride & Joy

by Kitty Neale

Genres: Sagas; Family Life

Synopsis

From Sunday Times bestselling author Kitty Neale, a brand-new Christmas saga. Pre-order now!

London, 1911. Joy Squirrel's dream has finally come true: she is pregnant with the child she's always longed for. But there's a problem. The baby isn't her husband Samuel's. It's the result of one terrible mistake with Eddie Mallory, the cruel neighbour.

Through the decades Joy raises her child, navigating war, widowhood, and poverty. But Eddie's cunning wife, Val, has caught wind of the affair, and she's willing to do whatever it takes to cause Joy's downfall. Will Joy's secret stay hidden? And after devastating loss, will she find love and happiness again?

Release date: October 22, 2026

Publisher: Orion

Print pages: 320

Sample

Joy Squirrel had a secret. The biggest secret of her life! Laden with heavy bags, she gently kicked her mother’s front door to push it open. Her mother never locked the door and rarely ever closed it. Eliza would often say, my door is always open and though I might not have a drink to offer you, you’ll always get a smile and a listening ear. The woman was well-known and respected in the street, with neighbours often calling in and many bringing their troubles to Eliza in search of comfort. She’d lived in the small, terraced house for nearly fifty years. Joy had been born in the front bedroom, and shortly after, her brother had too. Sadly, her younger brother hadn’t lived to see his fifth birthday. That front bedroom was now rented to Clemmy, a young woman training to be a nurse. The extra income helped Eliza to live comfortably and indulge in far too many Fry’s Chocolate Cream bars, which showed on her rotund stomach and double chin.

‘It’s only me, Mum,’ Joy called as she stepped inside the neat and familiar hallway.

‘I’m in here, duckie,’ Eliza called back, sounding cheery.

Joy found her mother sitting beside the empty hearth in her sagging armchair, her arms folded under her ample breasts as she sucked on a tobacco-filled clay pipe.

‘Cor, you’ve got your hands full there,’ Eliza remarked, nodding her head towards Joy’s full bags.

‘Yeah, my arms are killing me,’ Joy huffed as she placed the bags on the floor and removed her damp straw hat, revealing her coffee-coloured hair pinned at the back of her head. ‘It’s started raining again,’ she said. ‘I reckon I must have bought all the veg that was on the turn. I got it for a good price an’ all.’

‘Well done, duck. You’ll make plenty of soup with that lot!’

‘Which will mean plenty of profits,’ Joy said proudly.

‘I admire you, my girl, I really do. It ain’t easy selling soup on the market in all weathers, but you’ve built up a good little business, though it should be Samuel earning the money, not you.’

Joy sighed. ‘Yeah, well, I made my vows, for richer, for poorer, and we’re for poorer now, more’s the pity.’

She’d been married to Samuel for more than twenty years, and he’d been an adequate provider. But for the past year, her husband had left the hard graft to her while he’d become a miserable, bitter man lacking any desire to work due to a questionable bad back. The man was more than capable of lifting a glass of beer to his lips, and he often took advantage of his marital rights in the bedroom, which Joy was more than happy to oblige, yet his back would cause him a problem at the merest mention of work.

Eliza shook her head. ‘That man needs a good kick up the backside,’ she grumbled. ‘If your father were still alive, he’d have skinned Samuel alive for allowing you to work your fingers to the bone. Your father had the foresight to buy this house and invest in a good pension that sees me all right now. He always said that Samuel wasn’t good enough for you, and I must agree. We ain’t posh, Joy, far from it, but your father looked after me and it’s diabolical that Samuel doesn’t do the same for you.’

‘I know, Mum, but he tries his best, and he’s a good man,’ Joy replied, sighing again. ‘What can I do? Either I make soup and flog it down the market or I’ll go hungry and lose my home too.’

‘You’ve already lost a decent home ’cos of him. That little house you had was lovely. Now look at you, stuck in that dump!’

‘We manage, Mum. I admit I miss that little house but when Samuel lost his job, we couldn’t afford the rent. We didn’t have a choice. Still, I’m grateful that we’ve got somewhere to live, though it’s gonna be a bit of a squeeze soon.’

‘What do you mean?’

Joy tried to hide her excitement, but she couldn’t help grinning as she placed a hand on her stomach. ‘I’m in the family way, Mum,’ she announced, beaming.

Eliza leaned forward, her dark brown eyes wide and her mouth gaping.

‘Ain’t you gonna say anything?’ Joy pushed. She’d never seen her mother lost for words before.

‘Are you sure?’ Eliza spluttered. ‘I mean, at your age … it could be the change.’

Joy rolled her eyes, and snapped, ‘Yes, Mum, I’m sure. Of course I’m bleedin’ sure.’

‘All right, don’t bite me head off. I’m just saying, you know, you’re no spring chicken.’

‘I’m forty-three, Mum. I’m not that old.’

Joy frowned as she studied her mother’s pursed lips. She’d hoped that her mum would have been pleased for her. After all, the child she was carrying would be her mother’s first grandchild, and likely her only grandchild too.

‘Well,’ Eliza finally tutted, ‘at least that husband of yours is good for one thing, I suppose. I hope this means he’s going to pull his finger out and get off his lazy arse. You shouldn’t be carrying those heavy bags of veg and you shouldn’t be dragging your cart and the big pots of soup all the way to the market.’

Joy flexed her biceps, saying, ‘I’m fine, Mum. Look at my muscles. I’m as strong as an ox.’

‘Yeah, well, granted, you’ve always had a big build with broad shoulders and there’s no doubt that you’re a strong woman, but you need to be thinking about that baby. What does Samuel say about it?’

Lowering her head and looking down, Joy mumbled, ‘I haven’t told him yet.’

‘Why not?’

‘I don’t know … I’m not sure if he will be happy about it.’

‘Tough!’ Eliza barked. ‘He put that baby in your stomach, and you can’t take it back to where it came from.’

Sitting on the lumpy sofa, wringing her hands and biting on her bottom lip as her mind turned, Joy could feel shame burning her cheeks, and her pulse raced. She wanted to confess to her mother, to tell her the shocking truth and reveal her big secret, but she feared the woman’s reaction. Her mother had always been her best friend, and this was the only thing she’d ever kept from her.

‘I know that look,’ Eliza said, narrowing her eyes. ‘Has Samuel been hitting you again?’

‘No, Mum, of course not! He only ever raised his fists to me that once, and I hit him back twice as hard.’

‘So, what are you so worried about?’

‘I … erm …’

‘Spit it out, girl. Tell your old mum what’s bothering you.’

Drawing in a long breath, Joy had never felt so ashamed, though she was desperate to unburden herself of the dreadful secret she’d been harbouring. She’d toyed with the idea of keeping it to herself, of never telling a soul, but she needed her mother’s reassurances. Cringing with embarrassment, she blurted, ‘It’s not Samuel’s baby.’

Holding her breath and peering at her mother, she waited for the anticipated explosive response.

Eliza’s eyes stretched wide, almost bulging out of their sockets. She gasped, covering her mouth with her gnarled hand.

At sixty-five and carrying a lot of extra weight, Joy hoped her shocking news wouldn’t give her mother a heart attack!

After a long, awkward silence, Eliza had gathered her thoughts and seemed unexpectedly calm. ‘Who is the father?’ she asked.

Joy had been expecting the question, and answered flatly, ‘Edward Mallory.’

‘What? Eddie Mallory who lives next door to you?’

‘Yes, but it was a mistake, Mum.’

‘I’m sure it was! Christ, Joy, he’s a married man, and he’s got a terrible reputation for putting it about with women. Bloody hell, girl, Val Mallory calls in here at least once a week. How am I going to look the woman in the eye? What on earth were you thinking?’

‘Please, Mum, I feel just awful. Like I said, it was a terrible mistake and one I won’t make again. But this baby … You know how much I’ve wanted to be a mother. I’d just about given up any hope of having a child. And now … Oh, Mum, it’s like all my dreams have finally come true!’

Eliza leaned back into the armchair and sucked on her pipe again. As smoke curled around her face, she coughed, then said, ‘Well, what’s done is done, I suppose, and I’m happy for you. I must admit, it’s broken my heart to see you so upset over the years, month after month when there was no baby. I know how much you’ve wanted this, and you’ll be a smashing mother.’

‘Thanks, Mum. Now you can understand why I haven’t told Samuel yet.’

‘It’ll be fine, Joy. Eddie Mallory does have a resemblance to Samuel, though he’s far more pleasing on the eye. Still, I would never have believed that Eddie’s good looks would have turned your head. Never mind. I reckon you’ll be all right, Joy. Eddie and Samuel are both thickset with dark hair and eyes, so you will probably get away with passing the child off as Samuel’s. But listen to me, Joy, and take my words seriously … No one must ever find out the truth.’

Joy trudged home, feeling lighter now that she’d told her mother everything. Thankfully, her mother hadn’t asked any uncomfortable questions about the dalliance with Eddie Mallory. She wished it had never happened, and she deeply regretted the incident, though she couldn’t have been happier about the outcome – a much-wanted baby, at last.

As she made her way through the streets of Battersea, she thought back to that fateful night with Eddie, cringing ashamedly as she recalled the details. It had been Samuel’s birthday and though they never normally made much of a fuss about celebrating, on this occasion Samuel had treated them both to several bottles of beer. Joy rarely drank and, on an empty stomach, the alcohol had made her feel quite woozy. As she’d slumped at the kitchen table and her eyelids had begun to feel heavy, Samuel had become disgruntled. ‘Oi, liven up,’ he’d moaned. ‘Cor, you’re a barrel of laughs! I was hoping for better company than this,’ he’d spat.

Joy remembered how angry she’d felt. ‘How dare you complain about me being knackered,’ she’d seethed. ‘I’ve been working since sunrise, on me feet all day, lugging me cart back and forward to the market and cooking more soup for tomorrow. So, yes, Samuel, I’m tired. I’m tired and worn out. If you want some lively company, then I suggest you find yourself a job to lighten the load on me!’

‘Here we go again,’ Samuel had shouted. ‘We can’t even have a nice drink together without you going on and on about me getting a job. I’m sick to the back teeth of hearing it, Joy.’

‘Then do something about it!’

‘I would if I could, but you know my back is bad.’

‘Huh, so you say! And stop spending what little money we’ve got on beer!’

Samuel had glared at her with a look of disgust and shaken his head. ‘You’ve changed, Joy. You used to be a gentle woman with a kind heart. A good laugh an’ all. Now you sound like a bitter and twisted fisher wife. I don’t want your sympathy, and my God I know I won’t get any, but I expected you of all people to be a bit more understanding. I don’t know what’s happened to you and where the lovely woman I married has gone, but I’ll tell you something, Joy … I don’t like what you’ve become. You remind me of her next door. That Val Mallory is a loud-mouthed, whinging cow and you’re getting more and more like her.’

Joy had risen to her feet, holding onto the table to steady herself. ‘Yeah, well, you’ve changed an’ all, Samuel. You’re nothing but an idle layabout who ain’t got nothing good to say about anything or anyone. I’m fed up with listening to you grumble about everything and I’m fed up with being the breadwinner!’

‘I liked you better when you were twenty-five,’ Samuel had said sullenly. ‘Now you’re an old witch.’

Picking up an empty bottle of beer from the table, Joy had launched it furiously at Samuel. Her aim had been affected by the alcohol and she’d missed him, but only narrowly.

Samuel had stridden across the small kitchen towards her, his eyes dark with rage.

Fearing that he was going to hit her, Joy had pushed the table towards him and scrambled behind the seat. ‘If you lay a finger on me, Samuel Squirrel, it will be the last thing you ever do!’ she’d warned.

‘Bitch,’ he’d yelled, and had then turned and marched towards the door. ‘I’ll find better company down the pub,’ he’d said, slamming the front door closed behind him.

Joy had sunk back into the chair, resting her elbows on the table and her head in her hands, wondering how their marriage had become so desperately unhappy. His cruel words about her being an old witch had cut deep and she believed he must have fallen out of love with her.

A gentle tap on the door had broken her thoughts and she’d dashed away a tear before answering it.

‘Eddie … What … what do you want?’ she’d asked, confused as to why he was standing on her doorstep.

‘I heard a bit of a commotion and saw Samuel leave. He looked none too happy. I just wanted to check that you’re all right.’

‘Yes, I’m fine,’ Joy had answered, and went to close the door.

Eddie had pushed it open. ‘You’ve been crying.’

‘I said I’m fine,’ she’d repeated.

‘I don’t think you are, Joy. Let me in, I’ll make you a cuppa and then leave you in peace.’

‘There’s no need, Eddie.’

‘Yes, Joy, there is. I can’t go home knowing you’re sat here next door to me and upset. It’ll put my mind at rest if I know you’re all right.’

Joy didn’t have the energy to argue. Her judgement fuddled with beer, she’d huffed as she’d turned and walked back to the kitchen, with Eddie following.

‘What were you arguing about?’ Eddie had asked.

Joy had shrugged. ‘It’s none of your business,’ she’d replied.

Looking around the small flat, Eddie had tutted. ‘He’s not working but I see he’s got money for beer. I hope you gave him what for.’

‘I did,’ Joy half-smiled.

‘That’s better,’ Eddie had encouraged. ‘You’re a beautiful woman when you smile, Joy. Too good for Samuel.’

‘He’s not a bad man.’

‘But he’s letting you down. A woman like you deserves a fella who will take care of you properly.’

‘He does his best.’

‘Maybe, but his best ain’t good enough. Cor, Joy, if you was my missus, I’d do everything I could to keep you happy. Samuel doesn’t know how lucky he is. How do you light this gas?’

Joy had felt unsteady on her feet as she’d gone towards the stove to light the gas ring.

‘Easy,’ Eddie had said as he’d grabbed her lightly to help support her.

‘I feel a bit dizzy,’ Joy had admitted.

‘Come on, let’s get you laid down before you fall down.’

Eddie urged her towards the bed and eased her back. ‘That’s it, rest now,’ he’d said soothingly, and ran a finger down her cheek. ‘You’re so beautiful, Joy, so beautiful,’ he’d murmured.

Joy was still stinging from Samuel’s words. I liked you better when you were twenty-five. Now you’re an old witch.

The bed had dipped as Eddie had climbed in beside her, whispering softly in her ear. She wanted to tell him to leave … to go home … but drunk in the darkness, as his hand brushed up the inside of her thigh and he told her how beautiful and sexy she was, Joy had found her legs parting.

‘That’s it, Joy, that’s it … Let me show you what a gorgeous woman you are …’

Two streets away from her mother’s house, Joy reached home and pushed away the memory of her foolish mistake with Eddie. Home was merely two rooms upstairs in a small, converted house, which offered a kitchenette in the living area and one bedroom. Placing the heavy bags on the battered, wooden kitchen table felt like a great relief. She was sure the weight of the vegetables had extended the length of her arms a few inches.

‘You’re home,’ Samuel said, his deep voice sullen.

Joy turned to see him leaning against the frame of the door. His braces were hanging by his side, and his shirt was worn without a collar. Three days of stubble covered his chin, and his unkempt hair was sticking out at the sides. He looked as though he’d just woken up.

‘You’re late,’ he added.

‘I popped in to see my mum,’ Joy explained, and kissed his bristly cheek.

‘Without a thought for me waiting for my dinner?’

Anger burned in Joy’s chest, but she kept her tone even. ‘I’ve just lugged three heavy bags from Covent Garden and across Battersea. The least you could have done is warm yourself a bowl of soup.’

‘Why should I?’ Samuel grumbled. ‘That soup you sell goes down well with the poor blighters that ain’t got a kitchen, but I’ve got a kitchen, and I’ve got a wife. I shouldn’t have to make me own dinner, and I shouldn’t have to eat that bloody rotten soup again!’

Joy’s fists clenched by her sides as she spat, ‘If you found yourself a job, you wouldn’t have to eat the soup!’

Samuel rolled his eyes. ‘I can always tell when you’ve been with your mother,’ he said disapprovingly. ‘Nag, nag, nag. She puts you up to it. I bet she bends your ear going on about what a bleedin’ saint your father was. My Enoch bought me my house … My Enoch made sure he invested in a good pension … My Enoch never took a day off work. Well, your perfect father didn’t have a bad back. It ain’t my fault that I ain’t fit enough to work, so stop going on about it!’

‘Fine, I accept you’ve got a bad back and you can’t work, but you could at least smarten yourself up a bit and help me out around the home.’

Joy’s heart dropped when he hissed, ‘I ain’t doing that. It’s bad enough that I feel like I’m letting you down by not being healthy enough to work, and you want to make me feel even worse by nagging me to do woman’s work!’

‘I’m just saying you could help me out a bit more. I’m doing everything, Samuel, and it’s getting too much for me.’

Samuel sighed deeply, and his voice softened. ‘I know. You’re right. I’ve had me head up my arse for too long. I hate seeing you so bleedin’ knackered all the time. I’ll do what I can to help … but you’d better not tell anyone, especially your mother.’

‘Thanks, Samuel, and I won’t say anything to anyone. And how about smartening yourself up a bit too, eh?’

A look of anger came over his face again. ‘What’s the point? I ain’t got a job to go to and hardly any money to spend in the pub. These four walls are about all I see nowadays. And how dare you criticise me. Take a look in the mirror, Joy. I’ve seen you adjusting your skirts to make them fit. You’re getting fat, just like your mother!’

‘This isn’t fat,’ she replied indignantly as she rubbed her hand on her swollen stomach. ‘I’m having a baby.’

She hadn’t meant to make her announcement during the exchange of a few heated words and home truths, but at least he knew now, and somehow, just talking about the child she was carrying instantly calmed her, and she smiled serenely.

‘Did you hear me, Samuel?’ she asked softly. ‘I’m having a baby.’

He was glaring at her, his dark eyes boring into her with what seemed to be contempt.

‘I’m so happy. This is all I’ve ever wanted,’ she added.

‘Happy … I’m nearly fifty years old and you’re saying I’m going to be a father? For Christ’s sake, Joy, I don’t want to be lumbered with a screaming kid at my age. And what about your job? How are you gonna work with a kid?’

Once again, Samuel brought her mood down. ‘I’ll manage,’ she replied miserably.

Samuel shook his head. ‘You need to see Mrs Macey. She’ll sort you out.’

Joy’s stomach churned as a wave of nausea washed over her. ‘I’ll not get rid of this baby, Samuel. How could you even suggest such a thing? Mrs Macey is a butcher. You know what happened to Fanny’s daughter. The poor girl died in agony after Mrs Macey used her filthy instruments on her. Is that what you want, Samuel? You’d see me die, would you?’

‘No, Joy, course not, you’re my world, and I’d be lost without you. I love you. You drive me mad sometimes, but I love you with all me heart. See sense though, woman. Surely you can see we’re too old to be starting a family.’

‘I’m having this baby whether you like it or not.’

‘Suit yourself,’ Samuel shrugged as he turned to leave the kitchenette. ‘But don’t expect me to be doing cartwheels about it. All I can see is trouble ahead. But I know you, Joy, and nothing I can say will change your mind.’

Guilt stabbed at Joy’s chest that she quickly tried to dismiss. It was clear that Samuel wasn’t happy about the forthcoming child, a baby that he’d be landed with yet hadn’t fathered. Oh well, Joy thought, he’ll have to get used to it. Come what may, she was already deeply in love with the child growing inside her, and Joy Squirrel knew she’d always fiercely protect her kin, but, just as her mother had advised, she’d have to keep the secret of how she came to be in the family way.

The following morning, Joy woke, and her first thought was of her baby. I can’t wait to meet you, she said in her mind, smiling, though she knew she’d have to be patient for another six months. Glancing sideways at her husband, she saw he was still sleeping, with his back to her and snoring quietly. She rolled towards him and draped her arm across his body. Snuggling into him, and softly kissing the back of his neck, she whispered, ‘I love you, Samuel Squirrel, and I know you’ll come to love this child.’

Samuel, still half asleep, rolled over to face her and pulled her in closer. She always felt safe in his embrace and wished she could stay like that forever, away from the Mallory family next door and the rest of the world. But she had a job to do. Climbing out of the bed, she glanced again at her sleeping husband. She had no idea what time he’d get up but assumed it wouldn’t be for hours yet. Joy always left the house before Samuel rose, often in the dark and earlier than the sunrise, heaving her heavy cart, small portable coal stove and two big pots of soup to the market. No matter the weather, Joy stood six days a week and served the hungry customers of Battersea. All sorts of people visited her four-wheeled cart – men, women and children. Most didn’t have kitchens at home; some didn’t have homes. Joy would ladle her vegetable broth into whatever cup or bowl they’d brought and charge them a penny. She was never short of customers and her flat always reeked of stewed vegetables.

Pinning her hair high and wrapping a scarf over her head to protect against the inclement weather, Joy padded down the narrow, creaky stairs and slipped out of the back door and into the small, paved backyard. She pulled her coat closer around her body, buttoning from the neck down until she noticed that it wouldn’t be much longer until her coat no longer fitted across her stomach. There wasn’t any spare money available for larger clothes, but at least her knitted cardigan stretched enough to keep her belly warm, and she had a couple of good shawls in her drawers.

Thankfully, the privy was vacant, and she’d beaten Mr Lockton to it again. The man lived in the flat below on the ground floor with his wife and three children. Mr Lockton was a costermonger too, whose box and book stall was at the other end of the market from Joy’s pitch. They often left their homes at about the same time, though Mr Lockton rarely spoke much. Joy wondered how the man made a reasonable living selling wooden boxes and second-hand books, especially as he lacked the usual market banter.

Coming out of the privy, Joy politely greeted Mr Lockton who seemed irritated to be waiting outside. The skinny man with wispy, strawberry blond hair merely grunted some sort of recognition as he passed her and slammed shut the wooden door to the toilet. Joy wished she had her own backyard and privy that wasn’t shared with the occupants of the downstairs flat, just like her mother had her own. But with only her earnings, this small flat was all they could afford now.

After hoisting her filled pots onto the cart, Joy opened the tall yard gate and pushed her heavy load through. As she turned into the back alley, her heart sank when the neighbour’s gate opened.

‘Good morning, Joy,’ Edward Mallory smiled, doffing his flat cap. ‘I was hoping to bump into you.’

‘Sorry, Eddie, I can’t stop; I’m late already.’

‘Wait,’ Eddie said, standing in front of her cart. ‘I just want to have a quick word with you.’

‘I don’t have time for this. Please move out of my way.’

‘Why have you been avoiding me, Joy? You’ve hardly spoken more than two words to me in the last few months.’

Joy drew in a sharp breath. ‘Please, Eddie, get out of my way,’ she asked, trying to sound polite though she knew her tone was curt.

‘I thought we were friends, Joy. In fact, I thought we were more than friends. Why am I getting the cold shoulder from you?’

‘I’m not having this conversation with you,’ she whispered, worried that Mr Lockton or someone else might hear. ‘We made a dreadful mistake, Eddie. Just … just leave things be.’

‘You didn’t think it was a mistake at the time, Joy. In fact, if my memory serves me correctly, I’d say that you were having a bloody good time!’

Joy could feel her cheeks reddening with shame, and her heart began to pound fast with fear. ‘Shut up, Eddie!’ she spat. ‘You can’t ever talk about it! Never! What if someone is listening, eh? Now move out of my way and stay away from me, do you hear?’

Glaring at the man, it sickened her to think that she’d once succumbed to his smarmy charms. She should have known better than to have accepted his advances and responded with passion to a quick tumble on her bed. But Edward Mallory had caught her after a vicious row she’d had with Samuel, and stupidly, she’d been seduced by his flattery. Christ, she wished the walls between their flats weren’t so thin and then Eddie would never have overheard the argument. She’d been angry, hurt and disappointed, and fuelled with several bottles of beer which had clouded her judgement, she’d thrown caution to the wind in a moment of lunacy! It had been brief, and Joy had instantly regretted it and had thrown Eddie out. She’d risked her rock-solid marriage for ten minutes of madness with a man she didn’t even like, and all because he’d made her feel good about herself. Now though, she couldn’t have felt any worse!

Joy was grateful when Eddie stepped aside but she could feel his eyes following her as she marched past him.

‘I’ll be seeing you, Joy,’ he called. ‘And you’d better be nicer to me in future … unless you want Samuel to know about what his wife gets up to when he’s down the pub.’

Feeling her blood run cold, she carried on walking away without looking over her shoulder, her mind turning with Eddie’s threat. Surely he wouldn’t risk telling Samuel anything? After all, Samuel was a shirker when it came to working, but her husband had a vile temper and would knock Eddie’s head off! And Val, Eddie’s wife, was a battleaxe of a woman. Joy recalled an incident when Val had created a terrible scene in the street. She’d dragged Doreen Batten around by her blonde hair, calling her a slut and warning her to stay away from Eddie.

Joy would always regret what had happened with Edward Mallory, but having the baby compensated for her terrible error. Gawd, she hoped it was a secret that would forever remain undisclosed and that Samuel never discovered the truth!

Samuel stood at the window, looking down at what appeared to be an uncomfortable exchange between his wife and neighbour. He’d never liked Edward Mallory. The man was full of himself and a braggart, often mouthing off in the pub about his latest conquests with women. Mind you, Samuel thought that Val Mallory was a hard-faced woman with a sharp tongue and part of him didn’t blame Eddie for looking elsewhere for his pleasures. But he’d better be keeping his hands off Joy, or Samuel would mess his face up so badly that no other woman would look twice at him.

Going into the kitchenette, his nose wrinkled with disgust at the stench of boiled vegetables. He detested the smell and lifted the stiff sash window to let in some chilly, fresh air. Standing at the sink, and turning on the only tap, he splashed cold water on his face and ran it through his greasy hair. It was only Wednesday, and it would be another few days until bath night. Samuel shrugged. He wasn’t bothered that his armpits were malodourous or his hair needed washing. As he drank a glass of water, the scene he’d witnessed with his wife and Eddie played over in his mind. He’d have words with Joy later and if he discovered that Eddie was bothering her, he’d storm straight round there and give the bloke a warning … or a thump an’ all.

Sitting at the table, his thoughts were a jumbled mess. Joy being in the family way had kept him awake for most of the night. His wife was adamant that she was keeping the baby, and Samuel wasn’t surprised. She’d wanted a child for as far back as he could remember, and it had upset him . . .