A Daughter’s Courage: A powerful, gritty new saga from the Sunday Times bestseller. Kitty Neale

It was just the sort of flashy car he’d love to own. Stepping back into a dark doorway, he watched as a middle-aged man got out of the car. He was dressed in the same style as Adrian liked, wearing a dapper suit and long coat. Robbie guessed the man would be loaded and wondered how much he might have in his wallet.

      He waited for the wealthy-looking gent to pass the doorway, then, seizing the opportunity, he jumped out and grabbed the man’s neck from behind. The man yelled out and struggled, but Robbie pushed two fingers into his back. ‘Don’t say a word or I will fucking shoot you,’ he warned.

      The man stopped trying to fight, his body seemingly frozen in fear as he quickly nodded his head. Robbie was nervous, but his victim’s easy submission boosted his confidence. ‘Give me your money … slowly … hand it over and I won’t hurt you.’

      The man took his wallet from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and, shaking, held it out to his side. Robbie snatched it. ‘Now the keys to your car.’

      The man reached into his trouser pocket and held the keys out for Robbie to take. He grabbed them, saying menacingly, ‘Don’t move. Stay where you are and don’t turn around. If I see you look at me, I’ll kill you.’

      Robbie ran to the car, leaped in and sped off down the street without a second thought for his prey. As far as he was concerned the man was easy picking and could afford to lose a car and a few quid. It wasn’t as if he’d really hurt anyone, so his conscience was clear.

      Robbie knew the police would soon be looking for him, and the car. It wasn’t exactly discreet with the bright red paintwork and gleaming chrome finish, but he was reluctant to get rid of it.

      There was only one thing he could do: get out of the area. In fact, he thought, it would probably be best to get out of Scotland.

      With only a week to go until Christmas, Dorothy was beginning to get excited. She always received a lovely knitted hat and scarf from her mother, but this year she was mostly looking forward to having a couple of days off work.

      ‘Cor, Nel, I really ache this morning,’ Dorothy said as she rubbed the small of her back. ‘Still, I suppose I should be thankful for small mercies because at least the morning sickness has stopped.’

      ‘Just you wait ’til your ankles blow up like balloons and the little bugger starts kicking your ribs,’ Nelly said with a chuckle. ‘This ain’t nothing yet, not compared to what you’ve got coming.’

      Dorothy smiled. She didn’t mind any discomfort that her pregnancy might bring, and she was really looking forward to feeling her baby kick.

      ‘Have you thought about seeing the midwife yet?’ asked Nelly.

      ‘No, and I won’t until I have to. Can you imagine their faces when they hear I haven’t got a husband? Mum knows all about having babies. I mean, she gave birth to me, didn’t she? I know she’s worried about it, but I’ve told her I want to have the baby at home. I just don’t think I could handle the nasty looks and jibes I’d get in hospital.’ Dorothy felt sad at how others would think of her once she started to show, but she couldn’t really understand why it was so terrible. She loved the child growing inside her and surely that was all that mattered.

      Nelly looked astounded. ‘Dottie, you can’t do that! This is your first. What if something goes wrong and you need medical attention?’

      ‘I can’t see that happening. Women have been having babies since time began. I’m a bit scared, but it’s all natural.’

      ‘That may be so, but women have also died in childbirth. I ain’t trying to scare you any more than you already are, but Dottie, you need to be realistic.’

      ‘My mind is made up. I’m having a home birth, without an interfering midwife, and that’s that.’

      ‘Well, if you’re so bloody insistent, will you at least let me help your mum? I’m no nurse, and our Linda had her first baby in hospital, but I was there when she dropped her last two sprogs at home.’

      ‘Really? You would do that for me?’

      Nelly gave her friend a hug. ‘Of course I will. I told you, I’m your friend and I’ll be there for you, come what may.’ With a soft smile, she added, ‘I just wish you was a bit more blinking sensible at times.’

       Chapter 12

      Adrian yawned; he was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open. He’d been restless most of the night, thinking about Dorothy. It wasn’t any better now during daylight hours. He sat at his desk and tried to keep focused on the job in hand, but as he concentrated on the bookkeeping, the numbers in front of him weren’t as engaging as thoughts of Dorothy.

      The telephone trilled and Adrian reluctantly answered it. He quickly perked up when he heard Myra on the other end of the line.

      ‘He did what?’ Adrian screeched, hardly able to believe his ears. Myra had said that Robbie had paid her a fleeting visit and turned up in a brand-new red sports car.

      ‘Did you tell him about Dottie and the baby?’ he asked.

      Myra said she hadn’t seen him as she’d been out shopping at the time. It was one of her lodgers who had told her about the car.

      ‘Where was he heading to next?’

      Unfortunately, Myra didn’t know, but said he must have come into some money as he’d left the kids a shilling each for Christmas.

      ‘I doubt he earned it,’ Adrian said scathingly.

      They spoke some more, speculated on how Robbie had found the money for a car, and wished each other a happy Christmas. He and Myra both doubted that in such a short time Robbie could have found a job that paid enough money to buy a sports car, and they discussed the possibility that he’d won the money by gambling. Though he hadn’t said anything to his sister, deep down Adrian feared that Robbie had been involved in something illegal again, perhaps another robbery.

      He replaced the receiver, lit his pipe and hoped that his brother never showed his face in Battersea again. As far as he was concerned, it would be best for everyone. His forthcoming niece or nephew deserved better than a common thief for a father, and Dorothy should have a worthy husband, one who truly loved her and could look after her.

      In the bakery, Nelly glanced at her friend and noticed that she looked pale and clammy. She hoped Dorothy wasn’t going to throw up. ‘Hey, are you OK, sugar?’ she managed to whisper to Dorothy when Mr Epstein wasn’t keeping his beady eye on them.

      Dorothy just nodded but Nelly wasn’t convinced. ‘Do you need to go to the toilet?’

      ‘I don’t know … it’s my stomach … I’ve got rotten cramps.’

      That didn’t sound right to Nelly and she feared it could only mean one thing.

      Dorothy gasped as she bent over, clutching her stomach. ‘Is this normal, Nel?’

      Nelly didn’t want to frighten her friend, but she had to get her to the locker room. Her mind raced as she tried to think of an excuse that old Epstein would buy. ‘I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, but we need to get you off your feet.’

      ‘How? It’s a good hour until our lunch break. Argh, this hurts, but I’ll have to grin and bear it.’

      ‘No, you won’t. Leave it to me and go along with what I say, OK?’

      ‘Yes, but what are you gonna do?’

      ‘I’m going to have a word with Mr Epstein. Don’t worry, love.’

      Nelly approached the baker, who was already eyeing the girls suspiciously. He had thin ginger hair swept over the top of his head, and a large pointed nose. His eyes narrowed as he snapped accusingly, ‘What is so important that you and Miss Butler find it necessary to talk when