‘I’m right sorry. I thought she were gettin’ better.’ Jennet almost said that at least their other children were recovering, but she held back, knowing that it wouldn’t help them with the loss of their daughter – their youngest, their baby, who Harry had doted on.

‘Dost tha want to see her?’ asked Molly.

‘Aye,’ said Jennet and followed her up the twisting steep stairs into the front bedroom where the slight figure was laid on the bed covered in blankets.

‘Dost tha want me to fetch Ma Critchley to lay her out?’ she asked.

‘In a bit,’ said Molly. She sat on the edge of the bed and took hold of her daughter’s hand. ‘She’s gettin’ cold,’ she said, tucking the blanket more firmly around her.

Jennet laid her hand on the other woman’s shoulder. It was a hard loss for her to bear and she worried that Molly might crumble under it.

‘I did everything t’ doctor told me to,’ said Molly.

‘I know. Tha did thy best.’

‘I should have listened to thee when tha warned me about yon river water,’ she said, sobs catching her breath.

‘Don’t blame thyself,’ Jennet told her. ‘There should be better provision than only one public pump in a town this size – and who knows how clean that is?’ She wanted to tell Molly about Dr Bowring and the things he’d promised he would do for them, but she knew it wasn’t the time. She’d tell her later and she’d ask her to join her fight for a washhouse. It would give her something to occupy her mind whilst she grieved for Annie.

Hannah tightened her fingers on James Hindle’s arm and walked close to him as they skirted the churchyard where the worst of the drunks were lying across the graves, insulting the folks whose ancestors were buried there. It was a shocking sight, but she was finding it hard to be angry or affronted when all she could think about was him. She saw one or two people glance at them and she wondered what they were thinking. Would it be all around town tomorrow that the schoolmaster was walking out with a lass?

As they went down King Street, Dr Bowring’s coach passed them.

‘There goes Bowring,’ said James with a frown. ‘He makes a good speech and he’s ardent in his beliefs but I’m not sure Blackburn is the place for him.’

‘But he’ll get the votes, won’t he?’ asked Hannah. ‘Titus thinks he will.’

‘I’m not so sure, especially now that Turner’s thrown his hat into the ring. He’s well known and well liked – for obvious reasons.’ He nodded back towards the melee fading behind them. ‘He thinks he can buy his way into Parliament.’

‘And what about Mr Feilden?’

‘He’s a good man too, though not as radical as John Bowring. He has his supporters and the shopkeepers who supply his meat and groceries will vote for him because they don’t want to lose his custom.’