His sympathy made her cry even more and she felt him pull her towards him, put an arm around her shoulder and hold her against him. He was warm and strong and he smelled of starch and tobacco and ink.

‘What’s to do with her?’ she heard Titus ask.

‘Don’t tell him,’ said Hannah, pulling away and wiping her eyes. ‘It’s nowt to do with him.’

She saw her sister take Titus by the arm and pull him away. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Give ’em a moment.’

James pulled Hannah’s arm through his. ‘Thing is,’ he told her as they walked towards the town centre, ‘stories are never lost. The words written down on paper might be gone, but never the story. That’s still there, in the imagination. All you have to do is write it down again – and it might even be a better story the next time.’

‘I would,’ she told him, ‘but Mrs Feilden made me promise I wouldn’t, and I don’t want to lose that job.’ She didn’t admit to the secret stash of paper and pencils under the floorboard.

‘It seems a high price to pay. Do you want me to have a word with Mr Feilden?’

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘He always listens to his wife.’

‘I wonder what it is she’s so afeared of.’

‘She were afraid I might be writing a penny novel. She’s scared to death her daughters might read one.’

He laughed. ‘And was it a penny novel?’ he teased.

Hannah blushed again. ‘No. Not really.’ They walked on through the crowds.

‘What time do you have to be back?’ he asked her.

‘Cook said no later than four.’

He took his watch from his waistcoat pocket and glanced at the time. ‘That’s well over an hour,’ he said. ‘Would you like to come back to Thunder Alley and read a bit of poetry?’

Hannah paused, but only for a moment. She wasn’t sure whether she should go with him, but it wasn’t as if he was a stranger and she didn’t think Jennet would mind.

‘Aye,’ she said. ‘I’d like that.’

They turned through the market square, away from the worst of the crush, and walked up to Thunder Alley. It was quiet on there, it not being a school day, but one of the stable lads was bringing out a couple of horses. They looked like the ones from Dr Bowring’s carriage. As the boy approached he glanced at Hannah and she recognised him.

‘Hello, John!’

He nodded in reply to her greeting, but didn’t stop as the prancing horses clattered down the street on either side of him, snorting and tossing their heads.

‘Someone tha knows?’ asked James as Hannah watched him go.

‘He used to be a neighbour, when we lived on Paradise Lane.’ She didn’t elaborate, but she was secretly pleased to see that John looked as if he was doing all right for himself. Seeing John reminded her that she really ought to go to see Mary again when she had her next afternoon off. She hoped that Mary would find it in her heart to forgive her and that they could be friends again. She missed her company more than she ever expected.