Marion had acquiesced. Doing anything for the Plowrights both alarmed her and eased her conscience. It alarmed her that any contact with them could result in illness to herself, for she believed that the plague was caused by poverty, and her conscience was eased by the effort of doing anything for them. But she stifled her conscience with the thought that most of the comforts of her life were produced by her own hard work and that feckless Small Sarah brought all her miseries on herself.

But the following Sunday Peter had gone scrunching over the snowy grass to the Plowrights’ with the stake over his shoulder, dragging the spade and a sharp iron spike with the other, and with his largest mallet stuck in his belt, and during the afternoon Marion had heard the thumping of the mallet. He had returned some hours later, very tired.

‘Well, we got it done,’ he told her. ‘Pity there’s no other able-bodied man around here. I had to get out the old post and dig a proper hole for the new one while Jack stood there holding up the soffit and all the weight of the rafters and thatch above it. I was as quick as I could be – ground was squelchy luckily – but I was amazed he could stand there so long holding it all up.’

‘Pity Martin was off at the mill with Lisa. Couldn’t Small Sarah, or any of the brats help?’

‘Small Sarah was just sitting indoors on a log. She never tried to help, nor did he say anything to her. Doubt if she could have helped. She’s so short the top of her head’s not up to his shoulder.’

‘And their brats?’

‘I don’t understand those children. Don’t know if they’re boys or girls. They never seem to grow up. There was – ’

‘How many did you see?’ asked Marion, just remembering the rumour that there were fewer than there had been.

‘Couldn’t see. It was pretty dark inside, even with the door full open. I saw a heap of old blanket on the floor, with some skinny little legs sticking out, and once a corner was lifted and a small face, just big eyes really, peeped out. I just said hullo sonny, or something, then the face went under the blanket again. It’s a sorry state they’re all in there, that’s certain. Small Sarah does nothing and you can’t talk to her as you can’t understand what she answers, just gobbling, and Jack’s surly enough, works hard though. Anyway, we got the post in and the soffit fixed on top, and I gave him a bundle of willow wands to put round the post and weave into the wall. That should tie the wall in with the new post. I wouldn’t be surprised if they just put the wands on the fire and forget to fix the wall. One can’t stand over them all the time and do everything for them. The place does stink, too.’