Annie looked about her. The two little girls, who appeared to be about six years old – were they twins? – had moved closer and were staring at her. The baby’s cry was setting her nerves on edge. She wondered if there was any food in the house, or even the possibility of a cup of tea or something for Lizzie after her gruelling day.

The boy came back in with the pail.

‘D’yer wash it out, Den?’ Lizzie said, sitting up groggily. He nodded. He seemed angry, Annie thought. Poor lad was most likely hungry. Young boys always seemed to be hungry at the best of times.

Lizzie straightened up, wiping her eyes. ‘All right, Nellie,’ she said, caressing the baby. ‘You feeling better, Mom?’ Annie could hear the plea in her voice for her mother to recover, for all the weight of the family not to be on her own skinny shoulders.

Her mother nodded, but Annie could see this was not the truth. She was obviously still feeling very poorly.

Annie felt helpless. At home, she would usually have arrived at such a house with a basin of broth, or something to ease the family’s cold and hunger. Or at least she would have known she could go home and fetch some such refreshment. But now she had no money and no idea of where she might go. And she couldn’t just stand here all night. She was no help and Uncle and Aunt would be wondering where on earth she was.

‘Lizzie,’ she said. The girl seemed to have forgotten she was there. She saw Lizzie’s mother’s head turn in bewilderment.

‘Oh, Mom – this is Annie. Works at the factory with me. I was feeling bad so she helped me home.’

A faint smile came over her mother’s features. ‘Thank you, bab. That’s good of yer.’ She peered more closely at Annie in the gloom. ‘Ain’t ’er got a pretty face?’

‘Lizzie,’ Annie said. ‘Could I speak with you a minute?’

‘Oh – yes. You’ll be wanting to go . . .’ Lizzie got up, with an effort.

‘No – it’s not that.’ Annie led Lizzie back to the door and whispered to her. ‘Is there any food in the house? Can I help you with anything?’ She did not know how, but she knew it was her duty to help. And she felt so sorry for poor Lizzie.

‘I couldn’t eat, I feel that sick,’ Lizzie said. ‘Or Mom. But . . .’ She looked round, helplessly. ‘We got nothing, I don’t think. I mean . . .’ She hastened to reassure Annie. ‘We ain’t always like this. It’s ’cause our mom’s poorly. Den?’ she called across to him. ‘Ain’t we got nothing to eat?’

‘No.’ He sounded angry. ‘And not a farthing.’

‘Where could we get something?’ Annie said. She recalled seeing some little shops in the nearby streets. ‘I could go – although I’ve got no money on me.’