“You no-name harlot.” Hazel Palmer’s strident tones ripped into Abby. “You tricked my son into marriage by getting pregnant. He never should have taken that posting to Australia.”

“Robbie and I loved each other,” Abby yelled back.

“Stop this shouting.” Bob Palmer’s cold voice sliced into the fraught atmosphere of the kitchen. “I will not tolerate it.”

“I want this harlot out of my house.” Hazel marched around the kitchen like a demented witch.

“Lower your voices,” Bob growled. “The neighbors might hear you.”

“And we couldn’t have that,” Abby shrilled. “They might find out how you treat your son’s widow.”

“You listen, my girl.” Bob grabbed her by the arm, his fingers pinching her skin as he shook her. She would have bruises on her arm tomorrow.

“If you don’t like it here in England, leave,” he continued his eyes hard and pitiless. “But Rosie stays with us.”

“I’m her mother.” Abby tried to stare him down but her head ached and nausea churned in her stomach. “You can’t stop me taking Rosie and leaving.”

“And where would you go with an eleven-month-old baby?” Bob rammed his point home. “You’ve got no money.”

No, thanks to you tricking me she wanted to say, but had to back off. If they kicked her out she would lose Rosie. Why hadn’t she realized how desperate these people were to steal her baby? Once Robbie succumbed to his war injuries they had insisted she come and live with them, and then they isolated her, financially, emotionally and physically, so she had nowhere else to go. No-one in England to turn to. Heavily pregnant, no airline would have let her fly with them, and after Rosie’s birth, she was virtually trapped and at the mercy of the Palmers.

Retreating to the sanctuary of the room she shared with Rosie, she took several steadying breaths. Her daughter slept soundly in the cot Robbie had used as a child.

“How am I going to get us out of this mess?” Abby whispered, leaning into the cot and running her fingers across the baby’s plump warm cheek. It was awful feeling so weak and useless, but she had to do something to get out of the Palmers’ clutches. Spare The Rod and Spoil The Child, Hazel had quoted one day, and Bob nodded his head. Robbie used to say that his parents would slap him for minor infringements, but if they hit Rosie, I’ll attack them with the nearest blunt object.

Returning to Australia would give her the safety and anonymity they needed, but how?