Ellen gave her a squeeze. ‘I’m so happy for you, Lizzie, and Roland has been good for us all.’

The following Sunday, Ellen drove Nellie, Lizzie sat beside Ellen and Sarah, Mary and Thomas sat in the back of the trap whilst Harry and Bill Foster walked into town. When they drove along the cobbled road that ran alongside Junction Dock Thomas called enthusiastically for them to look at all the ships; then they made a turn down a narrow street which brought them into Market Place, where they waited for Harry and Bill to catch up and give them further directions.

‘There’s so much to see, Lizzie,’ Ellen said breathlessly. ‘Look at that lovely church. This must be where Ma said it looked as though there was a good market. Do you think they sell bread? I could have a stall here.’

‘I thought I was supposed to be the one with ambition,’ Lizzie said wryly. ‘Slowly, slowly, little sister, take your time; Harry’s going to be earning a good living before long.’

‘I’m not thinking of ’money, Lizzie. It’s hard being without it, but I’m enjoying what I do; the aroma of bread rising and ’wholesome smell when it’s fresh out of ’oven. It’s the staff of life, an age-old occupation, and I like being part of its creation, I suppose.’

‘Come on, you chump,’ Lizzie teased. ‘Here’s Harry and our uncle Bill.’

They stabled Nellie and the cart in an inn yard and booked a table in the hostelry to eat dinner later. Then they set off walking towards the area where Bill said the house stood in one of the old courts.

They could smell fruit, flowers and vegetables even before they reached a long street which had warehouses on either side where empty wooden crates were stacked outside the premises. ‘It’ll be very busy early in a morning,’ Lizzie remarked, and Bill said it was, and that he came twice a week to buy the vegetables he sold in his shop.

‘Now then,’ he mumbled, looking about him. ‘Where’s this place I’m looking for? Blanket Row, it was called.’

Sarah was holding her mother’s hand, and suddenly gripped it so hard that Ellen jumped.

‘What is it, Sarah? Does something hurt?’

Sarah didn’t answer but shook her hand free and pulled away, her feet scurrying.

‘Sarah, come back,’ Ellen called, but the little girl didn’t turn.

Ellen quickened her pace to catch up with her and then almost crashed into her as Sarah suddenly stopped by a narrow alley, Martin’s Alley, which was wedged between two warehouses.

‘This is it,’ she faltered. ‘It’s down here.’