Mary tried to wake up and remember what it was she was supposed to do.

‘Mary? Canst hear me?’

She tried to nod her head, but she wasn’t sure how and she heard a little moan escape through her lips. She thought she must be ill. Cholera. That was it. People had the cholera, and now she must have caught it too.

The woman pulled back her bedclothes and Mary heard her sharp intake of breath.

‘Stop there,’ she instructed. ‘I’ll send someone to fetch Dr Scaife.’

So it was cholera, thought Mary as the door closed. She’d try to get up in a minute and clean herself.

‘Off to another Reform meeting?’ asked Cook. She’d made herself comfortable by the fire with her feet up on a stool. The Feildens were still at their country house and now that everything that could be scrubbed had been scrubbed, Cook was content to allow her a little time off.

‘Aye,’ said Hannah as she fastened the ribbons on her best bonnet.

‘I think tha must be sweet on one o’ them radicals,’ remarked Cook. ‘I don’t know why else tha would be so keen on politics.’

Hannah blushed. It was true, although she’d never admit it. The trouble was that tonight she was torn. She wanted to go to the meeting in the hope that she might see James Hindle again, but it was at the Star and she wasn’t sure that she wanted to see Mary.

‘Or I may just walk round to see my sister,’ she lied.

‘Aye, well, mind tha’s not late back.’

Hannah slipped out of the side entrance and unlatched the gate. She wondered if she should call round at Jane’s and try to persuade her to come, but if James was at the meeting she didn’t want to risk him spending all evening talking to her friend. So she hurried to the Star alone, keeping her head down as she passed a crowd of drunks on the corner, ignoring their cries and whistles as she went by. It was much darker when she turned into Shorrock Fold. There were no gas lamps down the narrow street where the uneven cobbles threatened to turn an ankle in the gloom. Only the oil lamp hanging over the door to the beerhouse guided her way.

She pushed open the door and the fug of the parlour hit her. The smoke inside was thicker than the smoke outside on a foggy day and her eyes burned and watered as she looked around for Titus. He was sitting at the far side of the room and she shoved her way through the crowd to ask him if Peggy was any better.

‘Aye. She’s improving,’ he told her. ‘She wants to go back to school so that’s a good sign.’

‘So it wasn’t cholera.’

‘No. I told Jennet it weren’t but tha knows how she worries about the childer.’

‘What’s tha havin’?’ asked Mrs Hall.

‘She’ll have half. My treat,’ said Titus, pulling out a stool for Hannah to sit down. ‘And I’ll have another pint.’