Ellen had not yet told Harry that she was expecting another child, but the time had now come, for the nausea that she had experienced with her other three pregnancies was beginning to become apparent. Fortunately, so far the queasiness was light and only occurred after Harry had set out for work. She wondered, though, just what his reaction would be to hearing of another addition to their family when they were already stretched to pay for rent, food, coal and clothing.

One evening, after they had eaten supper and Sarah and Thomas were tucked up in bed, she placed another small and precious piece of coal on the fire and turned down the lamp. She sat in the chair opposite him and he stretched out his sock-clad feet towards her, placing them down on top of her slippered ones. He gazed at her and gave a lazy smile.

‘Confession time?’ he murmured.

‘What?’ She caught his gaze and blinked.

‘It’s a ritual.’ His eyes held hers. ‘You’ve always done it; whenever there’s something important to discuss, you build up ’fire and turn down ’lamp.’

‘Do I?’ She was astonished, never having realized that she was so predictable.

He leaned forward and reached for her hands and pulled her gently towards him to sit on his lap. As he nuzzled her ear and cheek and nosed her hair, he breathed in her warm aroma of homely smells, of soap and woodsmoke and the glycerine she used every night to soothe her sore chapped hands, and began as he often did to undo her braid. She leaned her head back, captivated, and closed her eyes as he unfastened the plait and ran his fingers through the strands, teasing them apart then stroking them smooth into a shining cape that covered her shoulders down to her waist.

‘Don’t ever cut your hair,’ he breathed, and she gently shook her head.

‘I won’t,’ she murmured. ‘Unless we become really poor, and then I’ll sell it.’

‘We’ll never get to that state,’ he began, but she stopped him by turning her head and kissing his mouth.

‘Don’t you want to hear what I have to tell you?’ she murmured.

He gave a little chuckle. ‘Let me guess; you’re expecting another child.’

She sat up straight. ‘How did you know?’ she demanded.

He looked at her and ran a finger down her cheek. ‘It’s a certain look on your face,’ he whispered. ‘Your eyes melt, your lips are fuller, and it’s as if you’re holding a secret.’

‘I thought I was holding a secret,’ she confessed, ‘but even Sarah asked me if I had a boy would we call him William.’

‘You told Sarah!’ Harry was astonished.

‘No, of course not. It’s far too soon. But you know her funny little ways; she has an old head on her shoulders and comes out with all kinds of odd remarks.’