The little girl tumbled out of bed and ran from the room with a bright smile on her face, then Glad studied Jenny carefully. ‘You look better this morning. In bad need of a good night’s kip, you was.’

Jenny sat up. ‘What time is it?’

‘Half past seven. Now why don’t you get up, have a bite to eat and we’ll talk over what’s to be done.’

Jenny swung her legs out of bed. ‘Where’s the bathroom?’

‘We ain’t got one of those, Jen. There’s a privy and outhouse by the kitchen. I’ll boil you up a drop of water so you can have a wash.’ Then she bustled out again.

Before going downstairs, Jenny glanced in the other two rooms on this floor. Each contained a double bed and no room for anything else. She wondered where Fred’s brother, Stan, slept. There certainly wasn’t room up here, so he must sleep downstairs in the front room. The house was very small, she noticed, as she made her way down the steep stairs; you could have fitted the whole of the top floor into the bedroom she’d had at home. And even the attic room she’d shared with Edna had been bigger than these. She was going to miss Edna; they had become good friends. Jenny decided that once she’d sorted things out, she would let Edna know she was all right. It would be wrong to let her worry.

The kitchen consisted of a large white sink with one tap, an ancient gas stove, a small black leaded fire and a well-scrubbed wooden table.

Glad looked up from slicing a loaf of bread. ‘There’s a kettle of hot water on the fire, and I’ve put soap and a towel outside for you.’

‘Thank you.’ Jenny picked up the heavy black cast-iron kettle and went out to the wash-house. The rough brickwork had been given a coat of whitewash, as had the outside toilet. Conditions were primitive in Jenny’s eyes, but it was spotlessly clean. She shivered as she stripped down for a wash. Being late September, there was an early-morning nip in the air. It must be freezing out here in the winter, she thought, as she got back into her clothes as quickly as possible.

Picking up the kettle, she went back to the kitchen, a heavy weight of sadness pressing on her. Her quiet moan was laced with fear. What was to become of her?

Her shoulders drooped as she put the kettle back on the draining board. She couldn’t stay here. Glad and Fred obviously had enough trouble caring for their own family. They didn’t have room for someone who was nothing to do with them.

‘Come and sit down,’ Glad said, placing an arm around her. ‘Fred and Stan will be back for their breakfast soon, and then we’ll sort something out for you.’