When Harry had left the previous day with Billy and Mary, she had thought she would be lonely, but not a bit of it. Anna had arrived at her house late in the afternoon, bringing fresh bread and vegetables, and the two women had set about peeling potatoes and chopping onions up small to make a stew on a fire that had burned quite brightly, for Filip had brought back not only more wood, but a small bag of coal he had bought from a passing coal wagon.

He had also visited the synagogue and found someone who had directed him to a different landlord, who promised him better rooms than the one they had been living in. They could view the next day and move in immediately if they liked them.

‘We are rich!’ Filip had exclaimed. ‘And dining with friends, except Harry is not here. Where is he?’

Ellen explained that he had gone to visit his mother and taken Mary with him, and Anna asked if he would object if they stayed with her overnight.

‘He won’t mind. He’ll be pleased to help you, and besides,’ Ellen had commented, ‘he’ll be glad that there was someone in ’house with me whilst he was away.’

Filip had nodded and given a merry grin. ‘He worries that his young wife would be nervous without him, yes?’

Ellen blushed. ‘Perhaps.’ She lowered her eyes. ‘I’m alone during ’day when he’s at work, apart from ’children I mean; but I’ve never stayed alone at night since we married.’

Now, as she listened to the gentle breathing of Sarah and Thomas, the occasional soft snore from Filip and the shifting of ash in the grate, she thought how lucky she and Harry were, for although conditions were not good in this room in comparison with the Holderness cottage, they were secure; they had a roof over their heads that didn’t leak, a fire to warm them and food to sustain them. We are so blessed, and life will get better.

She slid quietly out of bed, removing her day clothes from beneath her pillow where she had stowed them to keep warm, and in her nightgown and woollen stockings that she had worn all night padded silently across the floor to the scullery where she hastily dressed, wrapped her warmest shawl around her shoulders, buttoned up her boots and eased back the door bolt to step outside to visit the privy.

It was still dark, with only a glimmer of silver light in the east, but even so, she saw the first gleam of frost on the rooftops and the yard wall, felt the slight crunch of frost beneath her boots and sensed the sharpness of cold air in her nostrils as she breathed in. Not winter yet, she silently pleaded. We’re only just in October.