Thomas started to yell, stretching out his hand for the bread, and Ellen hushed him. ‘In a minute, in a minute,’ she said. The baker looked up, and as she served the next customer she also picked up a misshapen, one-legged gingerbread man and gave it to Thomas with a ghost of a smile on her face.

‘Thank you,’ Ellen said gratefully as she stood at the counter. She was the last in the queue at the moment but guessed she wouldn’t be the last to buy, as the baker asked if she’d excuse her for a moment to take more bread out of the oven. She had a good trade, Ellen thought, but she seemed very harassed; when she came back she wiped her forehead with a cloth.

‘Sorry to keep you,’ she said. ‘It’s been such a busy morning. What can I get you?’

Ellen had noticed that there were two loaves on a bottom shelf and wondered if it might be yesterday’s bread, and therefore cheaper. ‘How much is your bread, please?’

The woman emitted a disgruntled sigh. ‘Do you want brown bread, household bread, wheaten or oat? Large? Two pounders? Tuppence for today’s household loaf. Bread cakes thruppence a dozen, or I’ve got yesterday’s loaves a penny each …’ She reeled through prices, weights and sizes.

Ellen reckoned up, deciding on the most economical way of spending what little money she had. ‘I’ll have those two from yesterday, one of today’s two pounder households, and six bread cakes, please,’ she said, handing over a silver sixpence and receiving a ha’penny change.

Whilst she waited for the bread to be put in brown paper bags Ellen glanced round; the shop was very clean, as was the woman’s apron under the dusting of flour.

‘Do you do all your own baking?’ she asked.

‘I do. I used to bake customers’ own, but so few have facilities for making dough, let alone baking the bread, that I gave up on that option. Are you new around here?’

‘Yes. We only arrived on Saturday, so I don’t know my way about yet.’ She indicated over her shoulder to Anna waiting outside. ‘You were recommended. She said you had good bread.’

‘Did she?’ The woman looked towards the door. ‘Are all those children hers?’

Ellen smiled. ‘Two of them are mine.’ Sarah and Mary had gone outside to wait with Anna’s children. ‘So you do everything yourself?’

‘Aye, at ’minute I do. The girl I had doesn’t always turn up. I’m going to have to look for someone else.’

‘To make and bake? Or to serve?’

The woman humphed. ‘They’d have to bake as well as I do, but not everybody wants to get up so early; they’ve got to be here by five. That’s why Ginny doesn’t always turn up. But today is ’last straw.’