Chapter 28
Bridie had never seen so much blood, on the bench, the floor, in the deep red soak of Siân’s mattress. Away from the hospital, Rhys sat, shoulders hunched, his back to their sodden bunk. Alf slouched on the bench beside him as, all around, steerage took on signs of life.
The carpenter dragged himself away from the splintered yard to relight the lamps. Tom fetched boiling water from the galley. Pam scooped leaves into the teapot and jammed on the lid as if determination alone could improve the situation. Once the tea had steeped, she slid a steaming mug across the table.
‘Here, Alf. No. Don’t shake your head. I was in labour two days with Lucy and, as you can see, we’re both fine.’
She passed a second cup to Rhys. ‘You too, love. No point getting upset over a drop of blood.’
