Amber nodded as she opened the door and stepped out into the yard where she almost bumped into Mrs Preston who was making a great show of cleaning her windows for the first time that either Amber or her mother could ever remember.

‘Off on a little ’oliday are you, lass?’ she asked as her eyes rested on the bag Amber was carrying.

‘Actually, Molly, Amber is away to look after me poor brother in Scarborough,’ Alice told her before Amber could answer. ‘He’s been reet poorly so she’ll stay there till he’s back on his feet again.’

‘Oh ar!’ Molly sniffed. ‘An’ what’s up wi’ him then?’

Amber gave her mother a hasty peck on the cheek and hurried away, well aware that Alice was more than capable of handling Molly Preston, and soon she turned out of the yard and headed for the town hall. It was a grand building, paid for by the lord of the manor, Nathaniel Cholmley, and built by Jonathan Pickernell, and normally Amber would always take time to admire it but today she had other things on her mind.

The coach was already parked there and the four black horses that would pull it were pawing the ground restlessly as the driver fastened the passenger’s luggage to the roof. Amber quickened her steps, afraid it would leave without her.

‘Is there room for one more?’ she asked breathlessly.

The tall man paused and nodded. ‘Aye lass, just one seat left. You’re lucky, another two minutes an’ we’d have been gone.’

When he had taken her luggage and fastened it to the roof of the carriage, Amber quickly paid him and climbed aboard. There were three other people inside the coach: a stout, finely dressed gentleman who looked quite well-to-do and an elderly couple who gave her warm smiles.

Amber settled back against the grubby leather squabs and watched miserably from the window as the horses pulled away and began their journey.

The first part went slowly as the horses plodded up the 199 steps, the steep hill that led out of town, and Amber swallowed deeply to try and prevent the tears that had sprung to her eyes from falling. How changed her life would be the next time she returned. By then she would have given birth to her baby and parted with it. It was a sobering thought and as the horses picked up speed and hurried past Whitby Abbey, perched high on the hill, her mood was sombre.

‘Off to visit someone are you, lass? Or perhaps it’s a day out?’

Amber started as she realised that the elderly lady was talking to her. In truth, she just wanted to be quiet but not wishing to be rude she answered, ‘I’m, er . . . going to work there for a time . . . for my uncle.’