‘I wish we were back at Pleck Gate,’ she told Titus when he came in for his dinner. ‘I feel like we have a death sentence hanging over us in this town.’

‘Aye, it’s a mess,’ conceded Titus. ‘But they’re sayin’ as there’s been less deaths the last few days. They think the worst of it might be over.’

‘Aye, so I heard. Mrs Whittaker were supposed to be asking her ladies’ committee if they’d hear what I had to say about a washhouse, but they keep puttin’ me off. Last time I asked her she said that the cholera was coming to an end so there weren’t much need for one now – as if folk only need to keep clean when there’s illness about.’

‘They’ve no idea,’ agreed Titus. ‘They just hands their dirty linen to a laundry maid and it comes back clean.’

They looked at one another as a knock came on the door. It sounded timid and no one pushed it open or called out.

‘Who is it?’ asked Jennet, thinking that it was probably yet another neighbour with an armful of wet sheets wanting to use her mangle. When there was no answer she sighed and got up. The little lass on the doorstep, only a year or two older than her daughters, looked up at her, wide-eyed.

‘Peggy’s been sick,’ she announced. ‘Miss Parkinson said I was to come and fetch thee.’

A shiver of terror ran through Jennet’s body as she reached for her shawl. ‘I’m coming. Ask Molly to mind our Bessie, will thee?’ she said to Titus.

‘I’ll come with thee.’

‘No. Tha’ll be docked an afternoon’s pay. Get back to t’ mill. I’ll get her and take her to the Dispensary.’

Neither of them said the word but cholera hung unspoken in the air between them and Jennet could see that Titus was as afraid as she was.

She wanted to run all the way to Thunder Alley, but set her pace by the child who trotted at her side whilst she quizzed her about Peggy.

‘How many times was she sick? Is she gripin’? Has she got the runs?’

‘She were sick all over the desk after dinner. Miss Parkinson had to fetch the mop and bucket. It were a funny colour,’ the child told her.

Please don’t let it be cholera. Please don’t let it be cholera. Jennet chanted the words in her head as they turned on to Thunder Alley and had to wait whilst the fresh horses for the Preston coach were brought out of the stables. They crossed the road and the child led her into the girls’ school. Jennet had never been inside before. The room was filled with rows of benches with desks in front of them. Miss Parkinson sat at the front with her back to the fire, which was banked up and smoking. The smell of vomit pervaded the room and she saw Peggy with her arms on a desk and her head resting on them. She looked as if she was asleep.