‘What work will I be doing, Cissy?’

She bit her lip before answering. This one was greener than the grass in Barking Park.

‘Don’t you know, ducks?’

Eileen stared into the troubled brown eyes before her and opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

‘You’re living here now, Miss Eileen, with Mr Dumas.’

Cissy threw in the ‘Miss Eileen’ bit because they usually liked that. It made them more amenable to their situation.

‘You mean, I’m living with Mr Dumas. What as? A kind of daughter?’ Eileen had heard of rich people buying children, but they were usually babies.

Cissy frowned. This one was definitely green. ‘Look, supposing you was to get married, right?’

Eileen nodded, unsure where this conversation was taking her.

‘Well, you’d have to sleep with your husband, wouldn’t you?’

Eileen nodded again. This time a feeling of panic was welling up inside her ribcage.

‘Well then, just pretend Mr Dumas is your husband, see. It’s simple really, and you’ll get used to it. They always do.’

Eileen began to shake her head.

‘No ... you’re telling me lies. My father wouldn’t do that to me.’

Cissy was losing patience now.

‘Listen, miss, if Mrs Horlock gets wind of what I’ve told you she’ll slap the pair of us from here to Timbuktu. Take my advice. Just keep your head down, open your legs and think of England. The last one we had who caused trouble was carted off to Nellie Deakins’ brothel, and believe me, you don’t want to end up there! The master’s paid for you fair and square, your dad’s already got the money and it’ll come in regular every week. If you’ve any brothers and sisters, then they’ll eat well. Look on it from that point of view and just remember what Cissy told you. Smile at the master and you’ll have everything you want. Cause trouble and you’ll regret it to the end of your days.’

Eileen allowed Cissy to dress her in a nightdress of white lawn and followed her meekly up the stairs and through the green baize door into the morning room. Mr Dumas stood up as she entered and smiled at her.

‘Come over here to the fire, my dear. That will be all, Cissy. Tell Mrs Horlock to bring up the food.’

Cissy bobbed a curtsy and, winking at Eileen, left the room.

Mr Dumas took Eileen’s hand and led her over to a large chair by the fire. She sat in it gingerly. The unaccustomed softness of the nightdress made her frightened in case she tore it. Mr Dumas took a small foot into his hand and knelt in front of her, kneading its coldness. Eileen watched him fearfully.