‘Ooh,’ Aunt Hatt shuddered, rather like a bird rearranging its feathers. ‘I don’t know how you could.’ She passed Annie a plate piled with food. Kidneys gleamed in gravy. Eb was already eating urgently.

‘There’re five children and the father has deserted them,’ Annie said heatedly, feeling harsh judgement on the man rise in her once again. ‘He’s left the poor woman with only one child old enough to do a day’s work – just old enough, anyway. Poor Lizzie – and now she’s sick herself. The boy, who should be at school, is selling firewood on the streets and there was not a farthing nor a mouthful of food in the house. And the baby is poorly as well.’

Annie could see her sister listening to her attentively.

‘Oh, how dreadful,’ Margaret said, her annoyance melting into sympathy now she could see Annie was safe.

Aunt Hatt was staring at her. ‘Well, what did you think you could do about it?’ she said rather tartly.

‘Well, we – the boy and I – put one of the chairs on the fire and I went to the shop nearby and got a few things for them – on the strap,’ Annie explained, proud of herself for acquiring this expression.

Uncle Eb snorted, seemingly in amusement at this.

‘And Uncle,’ Annie said with renewed urgency. ‘I think I must give the family my wages from the factory. After all, we are well fed and the money is not truly necessary for us, is it? I could hold a little back to cover my keep if you—’

‘Give it ’em,’ Uncle Eb said, with a wave of his hand. ‘If that’s the straits they’re in – if they’re on the parish they won’t need to go shouting it about that someone’s giving them a bit extra, though.’ He gave Annie a bewildered look. ‘I don’t know why you’re working in that factory in the first place. But you’ve a good heart in yer, wench, I’ll say that.’

‘It’s what we are enjoined to do,’ Annie said firmly. ‘Matthew chapter twenty-five, Lord, when did we see thee hungry and give thee food? . . . As you did it to the least of my brethren, you did it to me . . .’

Eb stared at her, fork in hand. ‘Ar, well, I wouldn’t know about that. But it’s a hard life for some and we’re doing all right. So give ’em your bits of wages if that’s what yer want.’

‘But you mustn’t go back to those awful yards again,’ Aunt Hatt said, looking round the cluttered room as if it was a haven of safety.

‘But I must,’ Annie said. ‘I’ve promised I’ll go tomorrow. They are in the most terrible way, Aunt Hatt – it’s my Christian duty to go.’