Josephine Cox Sunday Times Bestsellers Collection. Josephine Cox

make up his own mind. If it’s what he wanted when he was older, she would never stop him from seeing his daddy. Though she did not believe for one minute that Edward Trent would ever have the gall to show his face round these parts again.

      When the swing slowed, the child began kicking his legs and shouting, ‘More!’ Lucy started pushing him again. ‘All right. Just a few more minutes, then we’d best get you ready for bed,’ she told him. ‘You’ve had a busy day and by rights you should be worn out.’ She wagged a finger. ‘Barney was right. I do need eyes in the back of my head!’

      ‘Talking to yourself, is it?’ The husky voice was pleasantly familiar. ‘Sure they lock ye away for less than that.’

      ‘BRIDGET!’ Turning to see her old friend coming across the garden, Lucy ran to meet her. Flinging her arms round the woman’s waist, she gave her a bear hug. ‘It’s so good to see you.’

      ‘Ye little lunatic, get offa me!’ Laughingly shoving Lucy away, Bridget straightened her hat – a big black flowery thing with a long white feather. ‘Haven’t I told ye before, you’re not to hug me so hard; I’m delicate as well ye know.’

      She pointed to the child who was patiently sitting in his little box-swing. ‘Enough o’ this nonsense. I’ll get meladdo out and we’ll go inside for a drop o’ the good stuff.’ She gave a naughty wink. ‘I expect you’ll be wanting all the latest news.’

      Without more ado, she went to the swing, drew the wooden bar back and lifted the child out. ‘And as for you, young Jamie, I’ll thank ye not to pee on me!’ she warned. ‘You ruined my skirt the last time, ye dirty little article!’

      As she carried him away, he became fascinated with the feather in her hat, and when he began tugging at it, she promptly gave him to Lucy. ‘Will ye look at that? Not content with having ruined one o’ me best skirts, the little divil’s after ruining me hat.’

      Chuckling to herself, and delighted to suffer Bridget’s complaining, Lucy took the child and followed her into the cottage. The Irishwoman was striding ahead, in charge as usual, looking grand and important in the dark straight skirt, cut to just below the knee, and the smart peplum jacket that accentuated her curves. The big flowery hat was perched at an angle on top of her fiery red hair, all twirled and tamed and secured beneath it – apart from the few wispy curls that had danced their way out.

      ‘You look really nice,’ Lucy complimented her sincerely. ‘Is that a new two-piece?’

      Bridget sailed on. ‘New and expensive,’ she replied over the shoulder. ‘So you’ll understand why I don’t want it peed on?’

      Lucy did understand. ‘Is it bought for a special occasion then?’

      ‘It certainly is! I have a gentleman collecting me any time now, so if you’ve anything you need to tell me, you’ll have to be quick about it.’

      With an important backward glance, she went on, ‘I might tell ye, I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to get here. I caught a bus for the first time in ages and walked half a mile down the lane … dog’s muck and horse-dung everywhere!’ She glanced at her small-heeled shoes. ‘I’ll have you know, these were new only a few days since. This is the first time I’ve worn them. Now look at ’em! Whooh!’ She had a whole gamut of wonderful expressions and the one she made now was priceless. ‘I’ll need to give ’em a shine before I leave.’

      ‘Ah!’ So this was the reason for the smart outfit and the new hat. ‘You’ve got a new fella then?’ Lucy teased. ‘What’s he like?’

      Bridget touched the tip of her nose. ‘You’ll know soon enough,’ she replied cagily. ‘I’ll tell you when I’m good and ready and not before.’

      Bursting into the cottage with her usual flair, Bridget filled the room with her presence as always. She waited for Lucy to settle the child down for a nap before tea; he wriggled about for a while before falling fast and hard asleep. ‘Good Lord above, will ye look at that? You’ve worn the child out, so ye have.’ Now that he couldn’t snatch at her feather, she leaned over and kissed him. ‘He’s such a wee, bonny thing.’

      Though she loved children from a safe distance, Bridget was not cut out to be a mother and she made no secret of that. ‘Making the child gives you pleasure,’ she had been known to say with a twinkle in her eye. ‘Raising them breaks your heart.’

      Lucy went to the cupboard. ‘Large or small?’ she asked, the glass poised in the air.

      ‘I’ll have a large,’ Bridget started, then, ‘No! I’d best have a small.’ A devious little grin shaped her handsome face. ‘Sure, I’ve got to keep me wits about me today.’

      As instructed, Lucy poured out a small measure of gin and brought it to her. ‘Why? What’s happening today then?’ She handed her the glass and watched with amazement as Bridget took a delicate sip. It wasn’t like her dear friend and benefactor to drink her gin sparingly. Normally, she would down one glass and be after another, before the first was hardly swallowed.

      Bridget smacked her lips and looked up, and after taking another delicate sip, she smiled at Lucy with her magic green eyes and raising her eyebrows suggestively, said in a whisper, ‘I’ve found the fella of my dreams, so I have.’ The slightly smug expression on her face told it all.

      ‘Have you now?’ Lucy sat herself down. ‘So, you really think he’s the one?’

      ‘Oh, he is. I just know he is!’

      ‘Well, come on then. Who is he?’

      Bridget opened her mouth to answer, then changed her mind. ‘Get yourself a cuppa tea first – oh, and another o’ these.’ She held out her glass. ‘I’ve a thirst come on me all of a sudden.’ She shrugged her broad shoulders in that apologetic manner which Lucy knew only too well.

      Lucy didn’t argue, because she knew it would do no good. Instead, she took the glass, half-filled it and handed it back. ‘You’d best make that last. Your fella might not approve of his woman being three sheets to the wind.’

      Bridget took a ladylike sip. ‘Why, ye cheeky young heathen!’ She then took another sip, this time longer. ‘I’ll be the best judge o’ that, so I will!’ She leaned forward in an intimate manner. ‘I’m so glad you like the two-piece,’ she said. ‘I bought it special. I bought these special an’ all.’ Clambering out of the chair, she hoisted her skirt to display vast thighs, topped by the laciest pair of knickers Lucy had ever seen. ‘Pure silk, I’ll have ye know!’ Bridget imparted, wide-eyed. ‘Cost me a small fortune, so they did. Well – what d’ye think? D’ye like them? D’ye think he’ll like them?’

      Lucy was lost for words, and told Bridget so.

      ‘Ah, go on and make the tea,’ Bridget told her, disappointed. ‘Sure, if he doesn’t like them, he’s not the fella I thought he was.’

      Smiling to herself, Lucy retreated to the kitchen where she boiled the kettle and made the tea, then came back into the parlour with a plate of little fairy cakes. ‘Have one of these,’ she suggested. ‘It’ll soak up the gin.’

      Bridget laughed aloud. ‘So now you’re telling me what to do, is it?’ she spluttered. ‘Seems to me you’re getting above yourself, young woman.’

      Seating herself in the other chair, Lucy leaned back, cup in hand and waiting. ‘Well?’

      Bridget frowned. ‘Well what?’

      ‘What’s the latest news then?’

      All in a rush as was her way, Bridget went over all the usual items of gossip. ‘Little Tillie’s gone off on a week’s holiday to the Lake District. She fell out with her boyfriend a few days back and says she’s finished with men forever, but she says that all the time and then she’s off again, seeing some other lanky, pimply, no-good thing.’ Taking a breath, she proceeded at a faster pace. ‘I said to her, I said, “Will ye never learn, girl? The buggers are only