‘Ah, well, that’s where I was hoping you’d be able to help me.’ Amber swallowed. She hated asking but what choice did she have. ‘I was wonderin’ if per’aps your mam might let me stay there just till I found another job.’ All attempts at improving her vocabulary had gone out of the window since she’d returned from London and she was now speaking in her broad Yorkshire dialect again. ‘I know it’s a big ask,’ she rushed on. ‘But I could pay me way. I’ve still got some o’ the money I earned from the Temples that’ll tide me over for a while an’ hopefully by then I’ll have got another post.’

‘Why don’t you just come back here?’ the cook asked. ‘Mrs Boswell’s been sayin’ we need another laundry maid.’

Amber flushed as she and Nancy exchanged a glance. Only Nancy knew the real reason why she had left her job as laundry maid so hastily and that was the way she wanted it to stay.

‘Though you’d ’ave to be quick,’ the cook went on. ‘I mean, since that ship went down it won’t take long to fill the position.’

‘Right, with cook’s permission, I’ll pop down to see me mam this afternoon an’ ask her about you’re stayin’ fer a while,’ Nancy said quickly, keen to get the cook on to another topic of conversation. ‘Just so long as you know what you’re lettin’ yerself in for,’ she added with a grin. ‘They’re packed in to that cottage like sardines in a tin, but I suppose it’s better than nothin, so leave it wi’ me, eh?’

Amber gave her a grateful smile as she quickly drained the rest of the tea then followed Nancy outside to collect the dirty washing from the laundry room. It had been packed into pillowcases and once it had been loaded onto the cart Amber set off for home.

She was nearing the bottom of the hill when she saw Bertie Preston and her stomach flipped. She’d done her best to avoid him since refusing his last proposal but it was clear he had seen her so she kept on towards him.

‘Well, well, well, how the mighty are fallen, eh?’ he sneered, staring pointedly at the dirty laundry in the old cart. ‘One minute a posh nanny to the nobs’ kids in London, an’ then a washerwoman, eh?’ His hat was set at a jaunty angle and beneath his heavy topcoat, which was trimmed with a thick fur collar, she could see an embroidered waistcoat.

‘Don’t start, Bertie,’ she said wearily. ‘I’ve had a long day and I just want to get home.’