Emma was relieved to see that while it had not an ounce of Victorian bric-à-brac, it appeared spotlessly clean. There was a single bed, with a darned, well-worn cream chenille quilt, a washstand under the tiny window in the eaves, a chest, a chair and a small round table. The walls and sloping eaves were covered in faded wallpaper, patterned with small bunches of forget-me-nots.

‘Here’s a nice big wardrobe,’ Mrs Daniel said, glancing at Emma, opening a door. ‘Come over ’ere and look.’

Emma did as she asked, and looked into the cupboard at Mrs Daniel’s urging. Again, she was pleasantly surprised. There were hooks, a rail holding coat hangers and several shelves. Plenty of space for her treasured clothes.

Turning, Emma gave her new landlady the benefit of a huge smile. ‘It’s perfect for me, and so tastefully done, Mrs Daniel. Just what I’ve been looking for. Thank you for allowing me to rent from you.’

‘Now, the rent is three shillings a week, and I don’t provide meals.’ Clearing her throat, she found herself adding, ‘But yer can use the kitchen.’ This last comment surprised her more than it did Emma.

‘Thank you, Mrs Daniel.’ Opening her reticule, Emma took out a purse and counted twelve shillings, placed them on a nearby table. ‘A month in advance, Mrs Daniel. And thank you very much for renting to me.’

Unsure that she wanted this girl in her home for a month, Mrs Daniel looked at the money on the table. Flustered, she said, ‘I’ll go and get yer case, bring it up.’

‘Oh no, I can do it,’ Emma said, taking a step forward.

‘Nay, lass, I don’t think yer strong enough. I’m used ter hauling up the gentlemen’s cases. Back in a tick.’ And she disappeared through the door.

Emma, still clutching her reticule, now put it on the table. She loved the black leather bag with the tortoiseshell frame. Olivia Wainright had given it to her. Also, it contained all the money she had in the world and bits of jewellery, once her mother’s treasured pieces.

She sat down on the bed. She was happy the mattress was comfortable. Quite unexpectedly, she felt safer now, more secure because she had a roof over her head, and a list of places to find work, written out for her by Rosie. Tomorrow she would go in search of a job in the streets the barmaid had suggested.

Mrs Daniel reappeared in the attic with Emma’s suitcase, heaving it in and dumping it near the door.

‘Bit heavier than I expected,’ Mrs Daniel explained, out of breath and flushed. ‘Don’t think I’ve ever lifted a real leather case afore. Only imitation. This is the genuine thing, it weighs a ton, I don’t mind tellin’ yer.’

‘I know,’ Emma replied. ‘Thank you so much for bringing it up.’