‘Well, it ain’t clean.’

‘Looks clean enough to me,’ said Molly. ‘And it’s a sight easier than trailin’ down to yon pump with three little childer in tow. Tha wants to mind thy own business.’

‘I were only tryin’ to help,’ said Jennet. ‘Tha doesn’t want to be makin’ thyself and t’ little ’uns poorly. Not when there’s talk of the typhus fever at the Eanam Mill.’

‘It’s fine,’ Molly told her as she went in. ‘I’ve been drinkin’ it for years and it’s never done me any harm.’

Jennet went into her own house with Bessie. It was a boiling-hot day and she was glad to get back from the market and out of the sun. At least the sheets she’d pegged out earlier had dried on the line and she would be able to fold and press them after dinner. She went through to the back kitchen to put her shopping away. Molly had a point, she thought. It was a chore having to walk down to the pump to fill up buckets. She usually relied on her barrels of rainwater for laundry but it hadn’t rained in weeks and they were empty. She’d sometimes used water from the river in the past, but it was so low now, and had so much green slime floating on its surface that it was no good for washing. It had been a huge help whilst Hannah was at home, she thought, but now that her sister had gone to the Feildens’ house she had to fetch water herself and take Bessie with her.

She missed her sister. It wasn’t just the help she’d given in the weeks since she’d been back, it was her company. It had been good to have someone to talk to. Titus never seemed to be at home these days. Once he’d finished work he would gulp his tea down without even tasting it and then go off to some meeting or other, only coming back at bedtime. It sometimes seemed like they barely exchanged a word from one Sunday to the next. And when Sunday came he was always reading some pamphlet or meeting up with friends to discuss the coming election. He was very excited about it, though Jennet wasn’t sure what difference it would make because all the politicians were gentry and none of them really understood the struggles of ordinary working folk.

The mill hooter broke into her thoughts and moments later Titus came in and hung his cap behind the door.

‘I’ve been run off my feet all mornin’,’ he complained, ‘doin’ the job of two men. Billy Ratcliffe’s sent word that he’s sick.’

‘What’s to do with him?’ asked Jennet, knowing that it must be serious. No one stayed away from work and got their pay docked unless they were at death’s door.

‘They’re sayin’ as it’s the typhus.’

‘No!’ Jennet heard the clatter and realised that she’d dropped the serving spoon on to the hard flagged floor. ‘I thought that were just workers at the Eanam Mill?’