The vicar’s sermon seemed to go on and on for an eternity as he preached about the responsibilities weighing down on the shoulders of the new voters. The atmosphere was sombre and Peggy kept asking when they were going to sing again. Jennet had every sympathy with her and began to think that Titus had a point when he said he’d rather spend his Sunday morning at leisure than stuck on the uncomfortable pews of the parish church. Still, it was over at last and she exchanged a brief greeting with Mrs Whittaker before they walked home.

An air of excitement pervaded the town and people seemed to be hurrying here and there with a purpose, unlike the usual quiet of a Sunday. After a quick dinner they walked up to Tacketts Field to listen to the candidates give their final speeches. Apart from the hustings it was like a fair. There were stalls selling gingerbread, toffee and hot black puddings. Beer was flowing freely, and even those with no vote were taking advantage of the generosity and filling up their cups. Meanwhile, at the far end of the field, the Temperance Band was playing a selection of hymns suitable for the Sabbath day and Mr Livesey was preaching a warning about the demon drink, though few appeared to be listening to him.

Titus elbowed through the melee and managed to get two cups of beer, though much of it spilled on to the churning mud beneath their feet before he managed to get back to where Jennet was waiting on the edge of the crush with Peggy and Bessie. She took her drink and Titus pulled two pieces of toffee from his pocket, giving the larger one to Peggy.

‘Bowring’s here,’ he said. ‘I’ve just seen his carriage pull up. They should be starting soon. Shall we try to get to the front?’

‘I don’t know. I’m worried about the childer getting trodden on,’ she said, hoping that he wasn’t going to leave her alone with them.

‘Aye. We’ll probably be able to hear from where we are,’ he conceded. ‘Look, there’s our Hannah. She must have got the afternoon off.’

‘Where?’ Jennet stood on tiptoe and searched the crowd for the familiar figure of her sister, waving a hand in the air when she saw her to try to attract her attention.

Hannah waved back and squeezed through until she reached them.

‘I never thought to find thee in this,’ she gasped. ‘I’ve never seen so many folk all in one place. But I wanted to give thee this.’ She thrust a brown paper parcel into Jennet’s hand. ‘It’s the new blouse for Mrs Pickering. I’ve sat up late every night to get it finished.’

‘I’m that grateful!’ Jennet kissed her then grasped her by the arm and pulled her close. ‘But what were that trouble about? James Hindle said tha’d been accused of stealin’ a book.’

‘I never did!’ she protested. ‘Did he not say that it’d been lent to him?’ She hadn’t had the opportunity to speak to James since the trouble about the writing and she was worried about what his reaction would be. She was afraid that if he agreed with the Feildens that she’d done something wrong, she could never think of him in the same way again.