‘I’ve been working for Mrs Hall at the Star,’ she said, thinking that she might as well be honest. She didn’t know what William had told them, but she wouldn’t be surprised if they’d already made enquiries about her. Everybody knew everybody else in Blackburn and it was hard to keep anything a secret.

Mr Hart glanced at his wife. ‘It has a bit of a reputation,’ he said.

‘It’s where the Reformers meet,’ she explained. ‘That’s how I met William.’

‘Aye, so he said.’

Mary was glad when William came back in and sat down next to her. His parents had begun to ask her more about what she did at the beerhouse and she was trying to make her work sound respectable.

‘I help in the kitchen, preparing the food. And I wait on the customers a bit in the parlour.’ She met Mrs Hart’s eyes and sensed her hostility even though the woman was superficially polite. It was clear that she knew what other sort of work went on in the beerhouse.

‘I hear you were friendly with Mr Starkie, the pawnbroker,’ she said.

‘He was a customer,’ said Mary. ‘But he doesn’t come in now.’

It was clear what they thought, even though they wouldn’t say it out loud. The disapproval on their faces couldn’t be hidden.

She was glad when a stout woman came panting in with a tea tray and put it on the table. Mrs Hart thanked the maid and said that she would pour. She handed Mary a china cup and saucer and offered the sugar bowl. Mary took a small piece with the little tongs and tried to drop it into the cup without making a splash before she stirred it.

‘So have thy parents both passed on?’ asked Mr Hart.

‘No!’ The question took her by surprise and her spoon clattered on to the saucer. She’d never mentioned her family to William. In truth they hadn’t talked about much at all. They hardly knew one another.

‘Do they live locally?’ asked Mrs Hart.

Mary could feel her cheeks flaming. She needn’t have worried about looking pale, she thought. ‘They live on Paradise Lane,’ she explained. ‘But I don’t have anything to do with them. I see my brother though, and my sisters sometimes … but I don’t get on with my father.’

‘Hast tha spoken to him about asking for t’ lass’s hand?’ Mr Hart asked his son.

‘No. Not yet.’ It was clear that the existence of her parents was news to William as well. Mary cursed herself for not having made things clearer to him sooner. It had never occurred to her that they needed to be involved.

‘Well, tha knows tha must. If tha’s serious about this marryin’ lark,’ Mr Hart told his son. ‘She’s not over twenty-one, is she?’ He looked at Mary.

‘I’m nearly twenty,’ she said.

‘Then tha’ll need thy father’s permission,’ he said.

‘But I don’t have anything to do with them,’ Mary told him again.