The speakers climbed up a set of ramshackle steps on to the stage and Hannah caught sight of Titus near the front. He looked as if he was helping to create some order out of the chaos and she knew that he was never happier these days than when he was in charge of something.

At last the crowd quietened down as a group of women approached the stage.

‘There’s Mrs Kitchen,’ Jane told her. The woman was younger than Hannah had expected and was beautifully dressed in a calico printed gown, short jacket and a bonnet with a green favour prominently displayed. The chairman on the stage waved her forward as she hesitated and she was handed up the wobbly steps until she stood there with the men. The crowd hushed and hardly a breath was drawn as the women raised themselves on tiptoe to see Mrs Kitchen standing up there beside Dr Bowring.

‘Sir,’ she said, addressing the chairman, Mr Knight, ‘we, the Female Reformers of Blackburn shall consider it a favour if the address, which I confer into your hands, be read out to the meeting. It embraces a faint description of our woes and may apologise for our interference in the politics of our country.’

As Mrs Kitchen descended from the stage there was a huge burst of applause and Hannah clapped her hands together until they hurt. She felt so proud of the women who had dared to involve themselves in politics.

The chairman appealed for silence and when it was quiet once more he studied the paper in his hand for a moment and then began to read Mrs Kitchen’s words.

‘“We can speak with unassuming confidence that our houses, which once bore testimony to our industry and cleanliness, are now robbed of all their ornament. Even our beds, which afforded us health and sweet repose, are now torn away from us by the unfeeling hand of the relentless tax gatherers, who are reposing on beds of down whilst we have nothing more than a sheath of straw. And behold our innocent, wretched children and their appalling cries for a crust of bread! Come to our dwellings and behold our misery and wretchedness, for language cannot paint the feelings of a mother when she beholds her naked children and hears their cries of hunger and approaching death!”’

Hannah knew that Mrs Kitchen was right. She’d seen the half-naked children in the street. They looked no more than skin and bones. And when she went to the spring she heard talk of families who’d lost their homes because they had no money for the rent. It was bad enough now, but there would be deaths when the winter came and no mistake.

The end of the speech was met by another outburst of applause and even some cheering from those at the front. Hannah glanced around and saw that all the women who had attended were nodding their heads as they clapped enthusiastically.

‘So true!’