Once the speeches were over, the crowd began to disperse back towards the centre of the town, heading for the pubs.

James touched Hannah’s arm. ‘I’m right sorry about that trouble with the book,’ he told her.

‘Tha weren’t to blame.’

‘No, but it still made me feel bad. And I was that vexed when I heard that they’d put the blame on you.’ She glanced up and saw the anger flash in his eyes. Anger on her behalf – and it warmed her through. ‘I hope they told you they were sorry.’

‘Aye, I got an apology of sorts from Mrs Feilden.’

‘Only of sorts?’

‘There were more to it,’ she said, knowing that she needed to be truthful with him. ‘When she were searchin’ for the book she found some stuff I’d been writing, hidden under my mattress.’

Hannah felt a hot blush rise to her cheeks. She never talked to anyone about her writing, and she knew that she would never feel quite the same way about him if he disapproved of it as much as Mrs Feilden had. She was taking a risk by telling him, but he was a schoolmaster, so surely he wouldn’t think there was anything wrong in reading and writing – and if he asked what she’d written about she needn’t tell him. There was no evidence now that it had all been set fire to.

‘I didn’t know you could read and write!’

‘Our Titus taught me.’

‘And did Mrs Feilden not approve? I thought she was more forward-thinking than that.’

‘I think it were the content,’ mumbled Hannah, realising that she would have to tell him more.

‘Why? Was it political?’

Hannah shook her head. ‘It were a story,’ she admitted.

‘A story? You write stories?’ He sounded impressed. ‘What sort of stories?’

‘Oh, nowt much.’ She thought he must be able to see how red her face was and she half turned away from him. ‘But Mrs Feilden said I should stick to the scriptures.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with stories,’ he told her. ‘I’ve had a go myself, but I prefer poetry.’

‘What? To write? Tha writes poetry?’

‘Aye.’ It was his turn to look slightly shamefaced. ‘It’s not good poetry, but I like to have a go.’ They looked at one another for a moment and then he grinned and Hannah laughed too. ‘I don’t know why we both feel so guilty about it,’ he said. ‘There are worse vices.’ He hesitated. ‘Would you let me read some of them? Your stories?’ he asked. ‘I’ll let you see my poetry too, if you’d like.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Well, no matter.’ He sounded disappointed. ‘I know it can be hard to let someone else see.’

‘It’s not that,’ she told him. ‘Mrs Feilden had them burned.’

‘What? She burned your work?’

Hannah nodded. She could feel her eyes brimming again at the thought of it.

‘She’d no right to do that!’ he said. ‘I’d be furious if someone did that to me.’ He looked at her and saw her tears. ‘Aw, Hannah.’ He reached out and put his hands on her upper arms. ‘I’m that sorry,’ he said. ‘You must be upset. You’ve every right to be.’