‘This is Hannah. She’s a bit of a writer herself.’

‘Dost tha write poetry?’ asked one.

‘No. I’ve not tried. I write stories,’ she said. ‘I like to listen to poetry though,’ she added, hoping they wouldn’t think she wasn’t a real writer if she didn’t pen verse.

‘Aye, good.’

James handed her a half-pint of beer and squeezed a stool into the gap next to her. A man with a luxurious beard, and spectacles perched on the end of his nose, stood up to read from the sheet of paper in his hand.

There was applause when he’d finished. As James had promised, it was warm and although the room quickly filled with smoke, for once Hannah didn’t pine for fresh air. She felt safe here. No one knew her secret except for James, and although she could see that her confession had troubled him, he hadn’t sent her away.

After a while some hotpot was passed around in dishes and Hannah ate. She’d brought no money so she hoped that James had paid for it. She’d pay him back as soon as she could, she thought.

As it approached ten o’clock the men began to make their excuses and head for home.

‘I’d better get you back,’ said James. ‘Jennet’ll be wondering where we’ve got to.’

She pulled the shawl around her again and took his arm as they made their way back to Water Street.

‘What did you make of the poets?’ he asked.

‘I enjoyed hearing them,’ she said. ‘I might have a go at a poem or two myself now that I’m free to write again.’ She frowned as she remembered that she’d left her paper and pencils hidden at the Feildens’ house. ‘Tha didn’t read owt out,’ she said.

‘I hadn’t brought anything with me. And I always seem to get muddled if I try to recite from memory.’

‘Maybe next time?’ she ventured, hoping that he might agree to take her again.

‘Aye, maybe.’

‘Will tha come in?’ she asked as they reached the door.

He shook his head. ‘Not tonight. It’s late.’

She could see that it was because he didn’t want to speak to Titus and knew that it was going to make things difficult. ‘Will tha call for me again?’ She heard her voice waver as she asked.

He didn’t answer straight away.

‘I don’t know,’ he said at last. ‘What Titus did was wrong …’

‘Aye. I understand,’ she said as her hopes plummeted. ‘A schoolmaster has to be above reproach.’

‘I’m sorry, Hannah,’ he said. ‘Goodnight.’ And he turned and walked away from her, back down the street.

‘What’s to do with him tonight?’ Titus had grumbled after James and Hannah had gone out.

‘He’s probably heard all sorts about our Hannah getting dismissed,’ Jennet told him as she turned the sock she’d darned right side out and examined the mended patch. ‘I just hope it doesn’t spoil things between them.’

‘Why should it spoil owt?’

‘Because he has a position in society as a schoolmaster. He can’t go hobnobbin’ with the criminal classes.’