Away from all this, as though in a different world, it was quiet and peaceful inside the stable, and comparatively warm. Sally Suggs worked tirelessly to keep the stalls spotlessly clean, and the two animals stabled there were fed only the best hay, with plenty of fresh water to drink. Pa always teased Sally, saying it was because she had been born in the stable that she had such an affinity with horses, but she was convinced that she had inherited her talent as a horsewoman from her late mother. Emily Tranter had been a famous equestrienne, who had delighted audiences at Astley’s Amphitheatre until she met and fell in love with young Edward Suggs, the rag-and-bone man.

‘Ain’t you done here yet, girl?’ Ted hobbled in from the yard and took off his cap, sending a dusting of snow onto the floor.

‘Nearly finished, Pa. Then I’ll go to the shop and get us something for our supper.’

‘It’ll be dark soon, love. You know I don’t like you walking out on your own at night, and it’s snowing harder than ever.’

Sally turned to him with a chuckle. ‘Pa, I’m nearly twenty. I’m not a little girl any longer.’

‘You are to me, my duck. You always will be, and I ain’t as fit and healthy as I used to be. My old pins ache something chronic, especially when it’s bitter cold like this.’

‘You should be in the parlour sitting by the fire,’ Sally said severely. ‘You’ve done your bit for today. I won’t be long, I promise.’ She reached up to pat Flower’s sleek neck as the horse nuzzled her shoulder.

‘You’d bring that blooming animal upstairs if she could manage them.’ Ted grumbled but his grey eyes were twinkling. ‘You wrap up warm if you’re going out,’ he added as he opened the door that led to a narrow flight of stairs. His heavy footsteps echoed round the stable, and then there was silence.

‘I would stay with you all night, Flower,’ Sally said, kissing the horse’s soft muzzle. ‘But I have Pa to look after as well as you.’

Flower whickered gently as if in reply, and with a last loving pat, Sally turned her attention to Boney, the heavy old horse who had pulled their cart through the London streets for the last fifteen years. He was still eager to work, but age was catching up on him and sometimes his joints were stiff, causing him to lumber over the cobblestones as if each step caused him pain. Sally had tried all manner of remedies, including poultices and doses of celery seeds, but in reality she knew that Boney’s working days were numbered, and in a year or two he ought to be put out to pasture – the alternative was the knacker’s yard, and that was unthinkable. Her dream would be a country cottage where her father could enjoy a long retirement, and Boney could end his days in peace.

Sally finished her work in the stable and went outside to make sure that the gates were locked and bolted. Although the items in the yard had been discarded by the former owners they still had a market value, and there were always those who preferred to steal rather than earn their living by honest toil. She hurried back to the warmth of the stable and extinguished the candles. Fires were all too common in places such as this, and everything had to be kept out of reach of the horses. A lamp left burning might easily be overturned by a frisky horse, and the whole place would go up in flames.