She peered past him into the gloomy room, which looked no cleaner than the outside, and soon a door close to the sink opened and a small woman appeared. She was almost as far around as she was high, which caused her to waddle rather than walk, and like the young man, she looked none too clean. A shabby shawl was tied across her chest and her thinning grey hair was pulled into an untidy bun on the back of her head. As she came closer, Amber saw that there were hairs growing on her chin and many of her teeth were missing. Those that were left were brown and rotting and Amber stifled a shudder as she thought of the witches she had seen in story books when she was a little girl.

‘So what was it yer were wantin’?’ the old woman asked suspiciously. ‘If yer’ve come fer donations fer the church or sommat we ain’t got no money to spare.’

‘Oh no, it’s nothing like that,’ Amber quickly assured her. ‘I’ve come because I heard there were a job goin’?’

‘Oh arr!’ The woman narrowed her eyes and folding her plump arms she hitched her enormous breasts up. ‘An’ ’ave you done farm work afore?’

‘Well, no I haven’t,’ Amber admitted. ‘But I’m a very quick learner an’ I ain’t afraid o’ hard work.’

‘Hm.’ The woman stared at her doubtfully. ‘An’ if I were to take yer on trial, an’ I do say if, when could yer start.’

‘As soon as you like,’ Amber gushed. ‘And I wouldn’t mind what I had to do. But there is just one thing . . .’ She twisted the thin gold band that her mother had bought her to wear in Scarborough around on her finger, glad that she’d remembered to put it on. ‘I’m a widow, you see? And I have a baby daughter . . . But that wouldn’t stop me doing any job you wanted me to,’ she rushed on when she saw Mrs Barstow frown.

‘Mm, well now that puts a different slant on things,’ the woman observed. ‘How are yer supposed to work wi’ a baby hangin’ round yer neck an’ that means I’d ’ave to be feedin’ an’ housin’ the two o’ yer so there wouldn’t be a lot left in wages.’

‘I wouldn’t need much,’ Amber assured her as she held her breath. ‘And Charlotte would be no trouble at all, she’s very good and I’d just strap her to me.’

‘So what do yer think, son?’ Mrs Barstow asked the young man Amber had met on arrival.

He shrugged indifferently. ‘Do wharrever you want, Mam. But if she’s a widow, then I’m the bloody Prince o’ Wales.’