‘I am saying that it is all right to have friends who are not of our faith or our culture. That we should be able to live together in harmony. That is why we left our homeland, is it not? It was what your father wanted, for us to be settled, to live without harassment; to be no longer constantly moving on. The wandering Jew will settle here. In this country we will finally find the peace we are looking for.’

‘But that is not the same as marrying someone from another faith, Mutter; not when my own brother would ostracize me and stop me from ever seeing you again.’ Edyta’s eyes again filled with tears.

‘I will talk to your brother,’ her mother said softly. ‘He will listen to his Jewish mother and respect her wishes. We will not be parted, Edyta. Only by a few miles, and never in our hearts. I will promise you this.’

The afternoon brightened as Ellen and the children walked by the river bank picking up twigs, but the wind was cold, blowing upriver from the east. Herring gulls flew overhead, screeching and diving on to the rooftops where they appeared to be surveying the landscape. If they had come inland to escape the weather at sea, Ellen worried that it would be colder on the flat plain of Holderness than it was here in Hull in the shelter of the buildings and wondered if she had done right in letting Harry take Mary with him.

Thomas held up his cold red hand; he’d lost a mitten and Sarah found it on the ground, wet and soggy. Ellen took it from her and put it in her pocket, and picking up Thomas she decided they would go back home, make some soup, and at least have the warmth of the fire, low though it was.

As they turned the corner into the street, she saw Filip and the children coming towards them; he was carrying Aron on his shoulders and lifted a hand in greeting. Zophia and Jakub began to run towards them.

‘Please to come to your house?’ Zophia begged, clutching Ellen’s shawl.

‘Ellen, I am so sorry,’ Filip said. ‘We are for ever in your debt. The room I have looked at is no good, but I have heard of another. We must leave this one we have, I am so afraid for the children; the walls are running with water and there is a stench from the privy. It is not fit to live in.’

‘Leave it now,’ she said impulsively. ‘Don’t stay and don’t pay the rent! Bring your blankets and your warm clothing, bring everything you have, and we’ll share the cost of coal. It isn’t fair,’ she exclaimed. ‘How can anyone charge money for such a terrible place?’