She stopped outside one shop and bought a bunch of carrots and a string of onions; the grocer put them into a paper bag and touched his cap when she paid for them. Further along she bought a small meat pie from a baker as the smell was tantalizing; she was very hungry, not having eaten since an early breakfast, and she ate it as she walked, knowing that there would be no one here who knew her and might make a comment on her eating food outside in such an improper manner.

She crossed another road and made another turn into Charterhouse Lane, which she thought Harry had mentioned at some point in regard to an ancient church or possibly a school; she could see towering chimneys and the tops of mills and allowed herself a small smile of triumph as she arrived in Wincomlee.

By the time she reached the house, the sky was darkening and rain threatening, but Lizzie had lit the lamp and the fire was burning bright, and she’d set the vegetables to cook over it. They were simmering nicely and giving off a savoury aroma, enticing Ellen’s taste buds and increasing her sense of hunger.

‘Have you had anything to eat, Lizzie?’ she asked.

Lizzie nodded. ‘I bought a savoury pie on ’way back from Tannerson’s,’ she said. ‘But I’m sorry to say I ate it all.’

Ellen gave a small laugh. ‘Well, I did ’same,’ she said. ‘What extravagant women we are. I caught ’smell of meat pie in a baker’s shop and decided I deserved a treat.’

‘Why?’ Lizzie asked, sitting in the easy chair and spreading out her feet towards the fire. ‘What made you think you’d earned a meat pie? Is Harry coming home soon? And why are you so late?’

Ellen took off her coat and sat down to remove her boots and rub her red and tender toes. ‘He thinks so,’ she murmured. ‘He looks much better. And I’m late back because I’ve walked and I think I might have come a long way round.’

She sighed, and put her fingers to her forehead, stretching the skin and smoothing her eyelids.

‘What’s up, Ellen?’ Lizzie asked perceptively. ‘You’re upset over something.’

Ellen nodded, but didn’t look up at her sister, knowing that the floodgates were about to open. Lizzie waited; she knew her younger sister wasn’t one to make a fuss over a petty concern.

‘The boy who was in hospital with Harry, Jim; you didn’t know him, and neither did I,’ she murmured. ‘I onny ever saw him once. He worked at Tannerson’s mill: ran errands, did odd jobs and exercised ’horses, I think. He died today, just after I got to ’hospital.’

‘Oh!’ An exhalation of breath escaped Lizzie’s lips. ‘Just a boy, you say? Was anyone with him?’