‘There. It is our meeting.’

‘You didn’t mention it.’

‘You have been busy.’

He sighed heavily. The intimation behind her brusque responses was as clear and unassailable as a wide open sky. He was a self-absorbed man; overanxious about his reputation, when he should be thankful that he had not perished in the flood. She was also telling him that he should be working alongside her to help those less fortunate; he should witness their suffering and see that his own was not so great. But he was not ready, yet, to acknowledge it.

‘I’m not sure the wife of the company’s resident engineer should be involved in such a high-profile rescue mission. You should not be in the public forum.’ He rubbed his beard. ‘Charlotte, I ought to forbid it.’

‘Yes, dear.’ She lifted her chin. ‘But I have not given you the space to do so. Ah, here is my transport.’

She swept past, leaving Gunson to stare after her helplessly. There were people on the street, observing him, and he retreated into the house, slamming the door behind him.

Chapter 27

‘May I note down your name?’

Harriet spoke gently to the man sitting opposite, who was twisting his cap in his hands. He had a long thin face, not unlike Mr Boothby’s, but without the bushy sideburns. This man’s cheeks were covered in dark stubble and there were grey smudges under his eyes.

‘Bert Crookes. We were at the foot o’ Watersmeet Road but now we’re in a room at…’ he rubbed his temples and then shook his head impatiently, ‘where the… I can’t think o’ the address…’

Harriet put down her pen. ‘Mr Crookes. Please take your time. I’m in no hurry. Would you like me to fetch you a glass of water?’

‘No, but I thank thee. Am I in’t right place? I’ve come to lay a claim for loss o’ life.’

‘Yes, you’re in the right place.’ She wrote his name at the top of a fresh page. She was halfway through the ledger now and her confidence had grown as the pages filled. She looked up at the man.

‘A loss of life?’

‘Aye. Me son, me eldest. Thirteen he were, ’ad a job at a skinner’s.’

‘I’m very sorry.’

‘Aint tha fault.’ He glared at Harriet in a way that would have distressed her only a short time ago. Now, she calmly poured water into a glass from the jug she was supplied with each morning and pushed it towards him. He drank it down.

‘I’ve got a bad chest from nearly drownin’ in the filth, but I won’t make the mistake o’ callin’ the doctor out again. Thievin’ git only put me in more debt. If it gets so as I can’t breathe, I’ll get mysen to the infirmary.’

‘Would you like another drink?’

‘Aye.’ He laughed. It was a bitter sound. ‘Whisky, pref’rably. Anyhow, this claim. I’ve been advised already to not bother claiming for me lad’s little sisters. They brought no money in, nor the wife.’ He squeezed his cap, over and over. ‘I might be able to claim for their clothes, though, I am told?’