Hearing the fire making encouraging little noises, Marion knew she must stir herself and take back to the Hall one of the panniers belonging to the Rutherford people which had had its lining torn and which Marion had been mending with some strips of leather. She must go over that last heap of pea haulms, piled on the log seat under the eaves, and if still really dry, save all the pods and take the haulms down to Molly’s, to their jointly shared pig at the end of the garden. The pig was being fattened for the winter killing.

Alice, who sat on the floor with her fat legs spread out near the hearthstone, was quiet and unusually still – so much so that Marion wondered if she were going to catch the cold. As Marion went over the pea plants and collected a lapful of hard pods she had to keep turning her head and hunching up a shoulder to wipe her dripping nose on the harsh leather shoulder of the jacket. It was very painful, for her nostrils and upper lip were red and rough. She tried sniffing but this barely helped. The teasel in her throat felt larger and made her want to swallow more frequently, which hurt more sharply.

She stuffed all the old pea haulms into the newly mended pannier, dragged unwilling Alice from the fire and took her to her cousin Lisa to be minded, and Marion herself went on to Molly’s. On her way there she saw one of the wretched Plowright children, half clothed, unkempt, standing on its bare, stick-like legs, attempting to eat a cabbage stalk. The sight troubled Marion’s conscience yet again. She knew she should always do more for those miserable desolate children – but not just now. The rest of us, she said to herself, us, Lisa and Martin, and Molly and the old women, we save our cabbage stalks for the pig, and then when it’s killed we have our shares – but those Plowrights – I don’t think they ever give anything to feed the pig, but they still expect their quarter at the killing.

No one was about at Molly’s, so Marion went down the garden, getting her dress even wetter in the long grass, and threw the pea plants over the wall of the pigsty. The pig walked out from under its shelter to investigate. It was fattening nicely.

The wet ground was very cold and there were frequent puddles on the Common path, and Marion reached the Hall with her bare feet pink and purple with the cold. She was glad to see that the bread oven against the end of the Hall wall was alight, and Milly was in the bread shed kneading dough. Marion put down the pannier and joined her, sitting on a bench with her feet on the warm stones at the oven’s base.

‘We’re in trouble here,’ said Milly, sniffing, but relishing trouble. ‘M’Dame’s screeching blame on us all.’