‘You could always sleep in the pigsty,’ he mocked, raking her with a contemptuous glance. ‘Reckon you’d be right a’ home wi’ them.’

Amber felt her temper flare. What gave this revolting man the right to judge her? ‘I suppose I’ll have to take the loft in that case,’ she said with an angry huff. From what she could see of it, even if this room was cleaned out there was hardly enough room in it to swing a cat around and no way of heating it either. Although it was spring the nights still tended to be nippy and she didn’t want to risk Charlotte catching a chill.

‘Suit yersen.’

Amber followed him back to the kitchen where she found the old woman still sitting where she had left her.

‘I’ve decided to stay in the loft. So where can I get the cleanin’ things I’ll need to clear it out?’

‘Mop an’ buckets over there an’ there’s rags an’ a bowl under the sink,’ Mrs Barstow told her as she started to pack the bowl of a clay pipe with tobacco. She was clearly in no rush to begin the housework, although the kitchen looked barely cleaner than Amber thought the pig sties would.

‘Reet, I’ll go an’ get changed an’ then I’ll get crackin’,’ Amber told her and once again she toted Charlotte up the ladder, thinking that by the time she’d got them somewhere at least clean to sleep she’d be worn out.

As Amber quickly changed her dress for her oldest blouse and skirt, Charlotte sat rubbing at her eyes and whinging again, which was quite unlike her because she was usually such a sunny-natured child. But Amber supposed it was to be expected and she felt guilty. She had taken her away from everyone and everything that was familiar so it was no wonder that the poor little mite was so miserable.

Once she’d carried her back downstairs, she placed her on the grubby hearthrug in front of the fire, grateful that there was a steel fireguard about it, and after heating some water in the sooty-bottomed kettle on the fire she filled the bucket.

‘Will she be all right there just while I get the loft clean?’ she questioned the old lady.

Mrs Barstow snorted. ‘Aye, as long as yer don’t expect me to pander to ’er. I ain’t her nanny yer know!’

With some trepidation, Amber glanced at the baby who was playing with her rag doll, the only toy Amber had brought for her, and then she hefted the heavy bucket up into the loft before coming back down for a broom and some cleaning rags.