‘I’ll make some tea,’ Lizzie said, eager to be obliging. She seemed more capable than her mother. She had learned things from kindly Mrs Blount and the other neighbours, Annie realized.

Their boots sounded loud on the bare treads, their shadows looming on the walls of the narrow staircase. At the top was a tiny, dark landing and the doors to two rooms. Annie pushed the nearest one open, with the apprehension she always felt on entering a sick room, not knowing what you might find.

The bed took up almost all of the small room. There was just enough space to step round the bedstead on which, bundled up under a mess of bedding, lay the two little girls, with Den across the foot. As she made her way round to the far side, Annie’s boot kicked against a metal pail, from which was emanating the filthy, acidic stench filling the room. The children had all been lying there in the gathering dark, with no light to guide them. She wondered what state the floor was in.

The sisters stood each side of the bed, Annie holding the candle. Two pairs of eyes peeped above the bedding at the top.

‘Hello, Ada, Ivy,’ Annie said. ‘Are you feeling poorly?’

One of them whispered, ‘I’m not being sick now.’

‘Well, that’s good,’ Annie said. ‘Perhaps you could come downstairs for bit, d’you think? Are you Ivy?’

The little girl nodded. Ada lay very listless and Annie stroked her forehead. She cast Margaret a worried look. The little girl seemed very weak. ‘You could do with some water, I’m sure.’

There was a sudden eruption at the bottom of the bed. Den, who had been lying quite still and seemingly asleep, pushed himself up, reached out to scrape the bucket across the floorboards and leaned over it, retching, his skinny frame racked by the heaves. There seemed nothing much to come up except a thin thread of liquid. He spat, then lay back with a little moan, his eyes closed.

Annie’s heart went out to him and she saw Margaret’s face twist with pity.

‘Oh dear, you poor thing,’ Margaret said in her soothing voice, sitting herself on the edge of the bed close to Den. Annie watched. She knew she had always been good at organizing children, but Margaret was the one they usually turned to for a softer fondness. She was glad her sister was there.

‘I’ll get Lizzie to give me some water,’ Annie said. Returning with two cups of cooling water, she found Den looking more awake.

‘He says it’s getting a bit better,’ Margaret said, smiling round at Annie.

Den’s pinched face looked suddenly much younger, Annie thought.