‘So what do you want me to do today?’ Amber asked as she poured her a cup of tea from the large brown earthenware teapot. It was quite stewed by then but Mrs Barstow didn’t seem to mind as she slurped at it.

‘Yer can try yer ’and in the dairy,’ she told her. ‘We could do wi’ some cheese to tek to market on Thursday.’

Amber’s heart sank as she glanced at Charlotte who was sitting like a little statue staring into space. There was no way she could take the baby in there with her, but as if she had read what she was thinking Mrs Barstow piped up, ‘I’ll keep me ear open fer the bairn.’

‘Thank you.’ Amber bent to drop a kiss on Charlotte’s springy curls. ‘I’ll be back mid-morning to give her some milk. Are you sure you’ll manage?’

‘I ’ad three o’ me own, didn’t I? Though there’s only two of ’em survived,’ Mrs Barstow said as she began to lavishly butter a slice of toast. So with some trepidation Amber set off for the dairy.

As promised, when she judged it to be mid-morning, she scurried back to the kitchen only to stop dead in her tracks when there was no sign of Charlotte.

‘Where is she?’ she demanded. But before Mrs Barstow could answer she heard a sound coming from the small cupboard where the men kept their coats and boots and flying over to it she flung the door wide to see Charlotte sitting on the floor in the darkness sobbing her little heart out. Amber snatched the quivering little body into her arms and turned on the old woman. ‘What the hell did you lock her in there for?’ Her voice shook with fury as she rocked Charlotte up and down.

‘She wouldn’t stop whingin’ so I thought I’d teach ’er a lesson. You’re too soft wi’ that bairn, that’s the problem!’

‘How dare you!’ Amber had never been so angry in her life. ‘If you ever . . . ever do that to her again I’ll be out of here like a shot, I promise you that!’

‘Oh, keep yer ’air on. She’s all right, ain’t she?’

Amber slammed over to the range to warm some milk for the infant but she was shaking with rage. Thankfully Charlotte’s crying had stopped and before the milk was warm she had fallen asleep on her mother’s shoulder, worn out with fear and crying.

‘It’s all right my little lass,’ she whispered to her. ‘That’ll never happen again, I promise.’ She sat for a good half an hour holding the child and if the old woman didn’t like it then Amber decided she could lump it.