A reply came back from her mother within a few days, saying she was sorry to hear of their tragedies and hoped they would soon recover, and then imparting the news that Lizzie’s husband Albert had died. Our Lizzie is bearing up with fortitude, she wrote, and his funeral is later in the week. It seems that our families are having a difficult time, but we will overcome it with strength and courage.

In spite of her sorrow for her sister, Ellen couldn’t help but think warmly of her mother’s words; she was so resolute and strong and always full of determination. I must try to be the same, to follow my mother and not give in because of misfortune.

Although Anna had called each day to see her, Ellen was still wearing her dressing gown and hadn’t been out for a week, although she had insisted that the children should wash and dress each day, and if the fire was hot enough had sliced bread to make toast for their breakfast. Now, with her mother in mind, using hot water from the kettle, she washed and dressed, brushed her hair and rebraided it, and was pleased she had done so when a little later someone knocked on the outer door.

It was Roland Tannerson. His horse and trap stood outside on the road with a boy holding the reins. He lifted his hat and Ellen saw that his hands were still wrapped in bandages. ‘Might I come in, Mrs Randell?’

Ellen began to shake, her former strong resolutions melting away. She nodded and opened the door wider and he exclaimed, ‘I’m not the bearer of bad news, Mrs Randell, please don’t think that! I’m calling as a matter of courtesy.’

‘Please come in, sir.’ She beckoned him in and saw his swift glance around the room before his gaze settled on the children, who were sitting on the beds. Sarah and Mary were playing with the dolls that Karl had made them for Christmas, and Thomas had his wooden train. They all looked up at him but didn’t speak.

‘Won’t you take a seat, Mr Tannerson?’ Ellen indicated one of the chairs by the fire.

‘Thank you.’ He sat down. ‘I don’t want to disturb you, Mrs Randell, but I wanted to be sure that you were managing all right whilst your husband was in hospital.’ He shook his head. ‘A bad business; a tragedy.’

‘I believe that one of your employees died,’ she said softly. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘Not an employee. It was a child.’ He cleared his throat. ‘At least …’ He gave another shake of his head. ‘We don’t yet know who he was. He shouldn’t have been there, at any rate, and I don’t know why he was in the mill.’