The driver seemed to know his way through lines of narrow streets that she had never seen before; workshops and small factories, some newly built on small plots, and countless houses back to back with others so that no light would ever reach through them. Will we ever move now? Will Harry ever be able to work again, if he – if he … She couldn’t finish her dark thoughts, nor dare to bring forward the dreadful images that were stirring inside her. It was too awful to contemplate a life without him; without her beautiful Harry with his ready smile, his bluest of eyes, his loving nature; there would be no life worth living without him – except that she had their children to consider, children who would need their mother even more if they lost their devoted father.

She had an ache in her belly and she put her hands beneath it to protect her unborn child. She felt nauseous and remembered that she hadn’t had any breakfast and had been able to give the children only bread and jam.

They passed through many streets of fine tall houses with steps leading up to the front doors, although in between were narrow courts containing cottages facing one another with barely a space between them; also in the area were shops and beer houses, and a fine church, with a porch supported by four pillars. Catholic, she thought vaguely, looking at the embellishments, but there were also Methodist and Baptist chapels, to suit all religions in this expanding town.

‘Nearly there,’ the driver told them; he had spoken little on the journey. ‘I’ll have to leave you at ’hospital and get back to ’mill. Will you find your way back?’

Ellen had barely noticed the names of the roads they had driven down, but they seemed now to have arrived almost in the centre of Hull; she said as much to the driver, who shook his head.

‘Nah,’ he said, as they came to another road where an impressive building stood in front of them. ‘If you turned left here and cut through them streets, you’d come to ’proper town where ’docks and ’town hall are. This lot,’ he waved the whip back in the direction they had come, ‘were built – mm, mebbe thirty, forty years ago when ’industry came; so my da said anyway. They’ve got big plans for Hull.’

‘Who have?’ Filip asked. He seemed to be having difficulty understanding the driver’s accent.

‘Corporation,’ Brown answered, and pulling across the road he drove through the wide gates of the infirmary to drop them at the imposing door. He then lifted the whip, touched it lightly on the horse’s back and pulled out again.