Hannah filled the kettle with water from the bucket in the back kitchen and put it on the hob to boil. Then she began to set the table. There were oatcakes for tea and treacle to spread on them. Bread was still too expensive and without a patch of land to cultivate there were no eggs or jam to supplement their diet, just what they could afford to buy from the market.

After they’d eaten, Hannah went upstairs to get her best bonnet and coat. The church bells were ringing, cutting across the peace of Sunday when the absence of the noise of engines and machinery provided a faint echo of the little market town Blackburn had once been before all the workers came.

‘See thee later!’ she called as she pulled the door closed behind her.

‘Don’t be late, our Hannah!’ called her sister. She knew that it was a warning not to linger after church and it annoyed her. Granted she was living with them, but her sister and brother-in-law weren’t her parents to tell her what she could and couldn’t do, yet they’d quickly fallen back into the habit of treating her like a child.

‘Mary!’ Her friend turned and waited for her to catch up. The ribbons on Hannah’s bonnet had come unfastened and she retied the bow as they crossed Darwen Street to reach the church door, joining the men and women going in to worship and avoiding those who were thronging the streets, worse for drink, even on a Sunday. It was no wonder they were ragged and barefoot, thought Hannah, when they spent their wages on gin and beer rather than food and clothing. It was surprising that the gentry were still willing to hand out charity to them when they did nothing to help themselves.

As they settled into seats near the back of the church she watched Mr and Mrs Feilden walk down the aisle to their pew at the front. She almost sighed as they went past. He was such a good-looking man – tall and athletic, and he wore the most wonderful, fashionable clothes. His wife was dressed in pale blue with a matching bonnet and a dark jacket. She had a velvet reticule swinging from her wrist and bestowed a smile on those she thought worthy as she passed by. It seemed that now the Sudells had fled they thought themselves the most important people in the town.

Hannah nudged Mary and pointed to the man who had followed them in. ‘That’s the schoolmaster!’ she whispered. He always wore the same jacket and trousers, but today he had a silk cravat – his Sunday best – and his wayward hair was carefully brushed. He took a pew and put his hat down beside him and Hannah was relieved to see that he was alone.

‘He comes into the Star,’ Mary told her. ‘Just for the Reform meetings,’ she added to reassure her.

There wasn’t the opportunity to say more as the organ played a fanfare and the congregation stood to sing the first hymn.