Lizzie turned, then went quickly back to her machine, making a face. ‘Nearly caught my finger then!’

There was a saying in the workroom that if you still had all your fingers you weren’t working hard enough.

‘It’s the others – Den and the twins. They’re both sick now. Mom’s at her wits’ end.’ She stopped working for a second, a desperate look on her face and her eyes filling with tears. ‘Will you come and see ’em, Annie? The neighbours are kind – well, Mrs Blount is. But Mom’s a bit . . . I mean, you always seem to know what to do better’n I do.’

‘Of course I will,’ Annie said, glad to be of use. ‘Are they poorly like you were?’

Lizzie nodded miserably. ‘Den’s really bad.’

When Margaret came with Annie’s dinner, Annie told her she would be going to see the Poole family after work.

‘Let me come too,’ Margaret said, to Annie’s surprise. ‘And I’ll ask Auntie if she’s anything she can spare for them.’

‘Won’t she mind?’ Annie said, remembering Aunt Hatt’s shudder at the idea of even looking into one of the backyards.

Margaret gave Annie her gentle smile. ‘Auntie’s kind really – you know she is. She just isn’t sure about people she doesn’t know. If it’s someone with a name and she hears what they’re suffering, I’m sure she’ll be sympathetic.’

The streets were smudged with fog again as workers poured out of Masters, Hogg & Co. at six o’clock. Among the crowd, Annie recognized Margaret’s curvaceous silhouette in the dim light of the street, in her long coat and a wide-brimmed hat, lent to her by Aunt Hatt.

‘Margaret said she would come and lend a hand,’ Annie told Lizzie, who nodded and gave a faint smile. She seemed reassured, as if the two of them were like older sisters giving her help, and Annie was warmed by this.

Margaret greeted her kindly and the three of them set off. Night was drawing in, the air damp and acrid. Around them, a lot of passers-by were coughing and they heard hawking sounds of people full of catarrh. Annie’s own throat was very sore and she hoped she was not going to go down with something.

‘Do you know the way back after?’ Margaret murmured apprehensively to Annie. Many nights back home they had set out together, to Watery Lane and other parts of the village, with a basin of broth here, advice about medicine there. They were used to helping people – that much felt familiar. But at home, they knew the dark lanes of the village like the back of their hands.

‘It’s not far,’ Annie said, though she sounded doubtful. Though she had visited Pope Street in the daylight, now, in these dark, fog-blanketed streets, it was easy to lose your bearings.