‘Mrs Feilden won’t be pleased if he doesn’t win,’ said Hannah. ‘I think she has a fancy to go to London.’

‘And what about you? Would you go as well?’

‘I don’t know. I’m not sure I’d want to. It’s a long way,’ said Hannah.

‘But it would be nice to see something of the world.’

‘I wouldn’t see much more than the kitchen sink!’ She glanced up at him. ‘Hast tha ever been? To London?’

‘No. I’d go given the opportunity though.’

They’d reached the gates and Hannah reluctantly withdrew her arm. ‘I’m grateful to thee for seein’ me back safe,’ she told him.

‘It was a pleasure,’ he replied. ‘And if I ever get invited to supper again I’ll be sure to look out for you.’

‘And if I ever get to take our Peg to school again I’ll be sure to look out for thee.’

The gate squeaked as she opened it. She would have liked to linger, but she didn’t want to get into trouble. As she walked up the path she glanced back. He was striding up King Street. Such a handsome man.

‘Tha looks like the cat that’s had the cream,’ said Cook when she went in. ‘I’d no idea that politics were so excitin’. Anyroad, it’s time to get tea on. Fetch an apron and slice that loaf. Time to get back to t’ real world.’

Mary had watched the crowds heading up to Tacketts Field. She had no interest in politics. It made no difference to her life. Instead she set off in a different direction, hoping that she might find John at the stables.

The town centre was almost deserted and she could hear the cheering coming from the field as she walked up Thunder Alley. The schools on the far side were quiet and locked up today and she remembered the night she and Hannah had gone to a lecture there about the gas. Hannah had been brave enough to breathe some of it and she’d laughed and laughed all the way home, making Mary laugh along with her although she’d had no idea what was so funny. She’d had some good times with her friend and she felt disappointed that Hannah had let her down. She missed her but she doubted that they could ever make their friendship up now. She’d seen Hannah in the street once, but she hadn’t wanted to speak to her so she’d hurried away and ducked into a shop.

Mary hesitated when she reached the gates of the stable yard. There were a couple of horses with their heads out over the half-doors and a man sweeping up some soiled straw and loading it into a wheelbarrow.

‘I’m looking for John Sharples,’ she said.

‘In t’ tack room,’ said the man with a nod of his head.

The door was ajar and she saw John sitting on a stool cleaning some harness with a rag. He looked up when he heard her footsteps and his serious face broke into a wide smile.