She put the paper to one side. It wasn’t just her mother and father falling out that she felt upset about. It was the fact that her mother had put her Aunt Harriet in Madge’s place. Why hadn’t she asked Jane herself to come and learn alongside her? She knew how to sew and could follow a pattern. Instead, she was treating Harriet as if she was someone special. To make matters worse, the whole of Atkinson’s was singing Harriet’s praises, saying how nice it was to see the pair working back together. If Bert Bannister had said it once to Jane, he’d said it a hundred times, and she was a little tired of hearing about the glorious Harriet and her skills. Bloody Harriet! All Jane needed now was for the simple Rosie to follow her mother into work at Atkinson’s, and that would never do. Rosie didn’t even dress well.

Jane looked at herself in her bedroom mirror. Her long auburn hair and pale skin made her stand out from the crowd, but how she hated her hair colour; she had always been teased as a child for the redness of it. Even now, even though people commented on her good looks, she still hated it. Everything was wrong in her life, and nobody cared.

‘Jane, Harriet has run out of this red-coloured Sylko. Can you go down to Dewhurst’s and pick up six reels, please?’ Isabelle entered the warehouse at Atkinson’s and gave Jane her latest instructions, showing her a near-empty bobbin reel with a hint of the colour she needed.

‘Why me, Mother? Can’t one of the warehouse lads go for you? It isn’t really my job, fetching and carrying.’ Jane looked at her mother and pulled a sulky face. She wasn’t a gofer – she would be the heiress one day of Atkinson’s.

‘You are to go because you were the first one I set eyes on who was doing nothing. Besides, I thought you’d appreciate the walk. But don’t think I’ll not be timing you. There will be no dilly-dallying with those mill girls, especially that Nellie Taylor. She’s nothing but trouble. Now get gone. Tell them to put it on my account – and look lively, as Harriet is waiting for it.’ Isabelle looked at her surly daughter. She knew Jane wasn’t happy and realized that things were not that pleasant at home for her, but ‘there were worse things happening at sea’, as her mother used to say to her, when she thought she was having a bad time. She watched as Jane grabbed her shawl and made her way out of the warehouse doors.