Instead, the driver pulled on the reins, bringing the animals to a halt.

Silas reached out to stroke the horse nearest. ‘Hey, boy.’

It snorted.

‘Need a ride, young fella?’ The man holding the reins bent towards him, drops of water falling from the brim of his cap. ‘You look like a drowneded rat. That your dog feelin’ sorry for itsen?’

Shandy was whining again.

‘It’s been a trek,’ said Silas. ‘I’m headed to town but I don’t know if I can pay you.’ The fewer coins he spent on frivolities like carriage rides the better. Still, he put his hand on the handle of the cab door, hopefully.

‘Aye, well.’ The man looked him up and down. ‘I’ll take thee as far as I’m goin’ for nowt. But sit up ’ere, wi’ me. I don’t want me carriage messin’ up and tha can’t get any wetter than thou art.’

‘Thanks!’

Silas leapt up beside the driver, reinvigorated, and whistled to Shandy who bounded up after him and planted herself between his legs. She was as soaked through as he, but gave off a damp and comforting warmth. The relief of being off his feet, which were now throbbing dully, coursed through Silas.

‘Nice doggo. Not really the weather for walkin’, though, eh?’

‘I just want to get to the town.’ Silas shifted on the wooden bench. ‘I’ve been walkin’ all day so I’m right glad you stopped for us.’

‘We look out fer each other in this neck of the woods. We’re coming into Little Matlock now. I can tek thee all the way into Division Street, if tha wants. That’s where I’m headed to pick up me passengers.’

Silas had no idea of the geography of the town. He wondered what Division Street divided.

‘I’m after work,’ he said. ‘I need lodgings first.’

‘I can drop thee at Malin Bridge then, at a nice place I know. That’ll set thee going.’

‘Is Malin Bridge in the town?’

‘Near as makes no odds.’

Silas recalled the words of Reverend James, who’d had almost a religious fervour for the new inventions that were revolutionising the production of steel. Silas had no idea what a Bessemer Converter was but he couldn’t wait to find out.

‘I’m after a job at a steelworks.’

‘Ah, reight enough, reight enough. Atlas is the biggest, but there’s loads of ’em. Tha’ll be tripping over ’em. My boy’s in the steelworks, at an armoury.’

‘An armoury?’ It sounded exotic.

‘Tha knows. Armour plate for the warships and steel for guns. Apprentice, he is. About your age. Earnin’ a good wage wi’ prospects. Tha’ll have to work thee way up, mind. And there’s harder trades tha should avoid, o’ course that’s if tha can afford to pick an’ choose.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like what… like what… File grinding. That’s one. Day an’ night bent over a grinding machine. Pays all right, I’ll grant tha that, but tha’s breathin’ in dust, ruins the lungs an’ dead by my age.’