‘Aye, I expect so. And William Foster’s wife was called Maria, seemingly. But there again,’ Sarah went on, ‘we all tend to use ’same names as our relations; it gets confusing at times.’

The subject was changed, and Ellen’s mother, who was a practical woman, asked when they would be moving. Ellen had to say she didn’t know until Harry arrived home to say if he had managed to find work.

‘You’ll need to borrow a hoss and cart,’ Sarah said. ‘Our Billy’ll know somebody and I expect he’ll give Harry a hand wi’ handling furniture, though you’ll not have much.’

‘We haven’t,’ Ellen agreed. ‘But we have enough. We’ll manage, I expect.’

Sarah got to her feet and patted her shoulder. ‘You will,’ she said quietly. ‘You’re a practical young woman.’ She stood for a moment, and then added, ‘That’s not to say we won’t miss you being near, cos we will.’

Her mother was obviously sad to think they would be moving out of reach, and as Ellen walked home later she thought that she must write regularly and tell her parents how they were coping with living in a large and busy town. It will certainly be different, she thought as she crossed the yard to her own front door, the hens scattering around her feet. Here it was quiet and peaceful; they had no neighbours, just a vista of cornfields and copses, green hedgerows hiding blackbirds’ nests, birdsong every morning and the trumpeting cry of pheasants, and she thought regretfully that she wouldn’t be making bramble and apple jam; nor would the children collect conkers from the chestnut trees as she did when she was a child.

She pushed open her door and ushered Sarah and Mary inside to the warm and welcoming kitchen. Perhaps, she thought, one day, if we make enough money, we’ll be able to afford to rent a house with a garden where the children can play. For she had no illusions: she was certain they were going to a place with hard pavements, factory chimneys, smoke and grime, and she would not know a single person there.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Harry arrived home about an hour later, just after she had fed the children. He came through the door and wrapped his arms around her. Then he held her at arms’ length with a smile in his eyes. ‘Well, Mrs Randell, are you ready for our next adventure?’

She nodded. ‘I think so,’ she said in a small voice.

He kissed her cheek. ‘That’s my brave girl. I’ve found work at a mill, a decent employer I think, and a house. Well, it’s ’ground floor of a house and a yard at ’back where ’bairns can play safely once I’ve cleared it of rubbish and scrubbed it out.’

‘What do you mean ’ground floor?’ she frowned. ‘Don’t we get the whole house?’