Filip was looking at all the women and children walking down the street, dozens of them, many of them in clogs, others in old boots. ‘Where do they go?’ he asked Harry. ‘It does not seem right that children should work when they are just out of school. It is the same in my country.’

‘I don’t know,’ Harry answered, glancing over his shoulder. A woman was walking close behind them with her eyes firmly fixed on the ground. She looked up and her eyes locked with Harry’s.

‘G’morning,’ he said, recognizing her. It was the woman from upstairs who had knocked on their door to ask about the children and explain about her sick mother. She muttered something in return and Filip moved to one side so that she could get past. He put a finger to his peaked cap in greeting, saying something in a language Harry didn’t understand.

She glanced at him and muttered something, but Harry didn’t catch what it was.

‘How do you know her?’ Filip asked him, staring after the woman as she walked swiftly on.

‘I don’t; she lives upstairs in ’top room. She came down to say that her mother was sick; she was bothered about ’children mekking a noise, I think.’

‘How is it that I don’t know this?’ Filip had a puzzled frown on his forehead. ‘We live in same house for four weeks.’

Harry shook his head. ‘Mebbe they just lived quietly.’ He shuffled up to join the men at the gates. ‘Are you coming in?’

Filip still had his eyes on the woman in front. ‘Later, I think. I wait until the machines are running. I will try elsewhere first.’

‘Right!’ Harry said. ‘Good luck, then.’ He wondered what it was that was preoccupying Filip, who had begun to stride out in the direction the woman was taking. ‘Mebbe see you later?’

Filip lifted a hand in response, but didn’t answer.

Harry walked across a large yard that was littered with steel bins, sleds and two-wheeled handcarts, canvas sacks and wooden boxes and reported to the foreman, whose name he discovered was Ellison; Ellison sent him through wide double doors and he saw Mr Tannerson in discussion with a group of men standing by belt-driven rollers. The owner looked up as Harry approached. ‘Yes?’ he said. ‘Can I help you?’

‘I, erm, you said I should start work today, Mr Tannerson. Where would you like me to begin?’

‘Did I? Ah yes, so I did. Well … what was your name again?’

‘Harry Randell, sir.’ Harry began to sweat in spite of the cold air coming off the river. I hope he hasn’t changed his mind.

‘Ah, yes,’ he said again. ‘The countryman. Kirkwood,’ he called over to someone. ‘Can you come over and find a job for our new recruit? I’ll sort out what he can do later.’