Hannah watched as he held out a hand and one shamefaced boy slunk forwards and placed the ball on top of his outstretched palm. The master tossed the ball into the air and caught it again easily. ‘Line up!’ he ordered and the unruly boys began to jostle themselves into a queue that writhed down the street and around the corner, the bigger ones elbowing the smaller ones to the back. She admired his control. He was only young, but the boys did what he bid. He put the ball down, resting one foot on it, and stood fastening his cravat on the street; then, conscious of being watched, his eyes sought hers and he grinned at her, making her cheeks flush. She saw that his eyes were an unusual green, contrasting with the curly hair that flopped over his forehead. He pushed it back and picked up the ball and held it under his arm before standing to one side and sending the line of boys into the schoolroom, snatching off a cap here and cuffing the back of a head there as they passed him. Then, with a last glance at Hannah, he closed the door behind him, shouting for silence as it thudded to.

‘We’re going in now,’ said Peggy, tugging on her hand. Hannah turned her attention to the girls who were filing into the school next door under the eye of a young woman in a dark skirt and cream blouse. Her hair was swept up into a plain style, but her face was plump and soft and Peggy ran to her eagerly to be greeted by a caress to her head as she disappeared through the door. Hannah exchanged a smile with the schoolmistress and then found that she was suddenly alone on the quiet street. She stood for a moment, looking at the windows of the boys’ school and trying to imagine what was happening inside. And as she walked away a smile twitched at her lips as she remembered the schoolmaster’s grin.

Hannah made her way down to the Brookhouse Mill where she’d worked before going to Woodfold. The overlooker remembered her and said that she was a good worker, but he was sorry there was nothing at the moment. She told him where she was living and he promised to send word if there was a vacancy, but somehow she didn’t think he would.

She made her way to the other mills, but met the same reply everywhere. The mills had all the workers they needed.

She went back to Water Street for some dinner and then took the buckets up to the spring to fill them, leaving Jennet to her ironing. It was busy now that there were so many people and only the one well, and she had to wait. On the way back she saw some people filling their buckets from the Blakewater to save time and she wondered how they could bear the smell of it. There was a green mass floating on the top of the slow-flowing river and she thought she’d rather stand an hour at the spring than take that home.