She was almost home when the sound of running footsteps made her clutch her reticule in both hands. Even in the most respectable parts of the city there was the danger of pickpockets and petty thieves, but it was Frankie, Ivy’s eldest child, who caught up with her.

‘Miss Kate. You got to come with me. Ma’s in a terrible state.’

‘Whatever is the matter, Frankie? Slow down and catch your breath.’

He grabbed her by the sleeve. ‘They set fire to the soup kitchen, miss. It’s burning.’

‘Is anyone hurt?’

‘I dunno, miss. It was that Mr Spears what come to our house. He told Ma and she sent me to fetch you.’

Kate raised her hand to hail a hackney carriage, but it drove past without stopping. They waited a few minutes and eventually a hansom cab pulled up at the kerb.

‘Cable Street, please, cabby.’ Kate helped Frankie into the cab and she climbed in to sit beside him.

‘I ain’t never been in one of these,’ Frankie said, grinning.

‘I heard about the chicken pox. You’re obviously much better now.’

‘I was the first to get sick, then Jimmy and May. We’ve all had it, even baby John.’

They lapsed into silence as the cab wended its way through the chaotic tangle of horse-drawn vehicle, handcarts and pedestrians, who seemed to have no fear when it came to barging across the road. Eventually, a pall of smoke made the cabby draw his horse to a halt.

He opened the flap in the cab roof. ‘Can’t go no further, miss. You’ll have to walk the rest of the way.’

Kate paid him and alighted, holding out her hand to Frankie, who ignored it and leaped to the ground.

‘The whole street is on fire,’ he said gleefully.

Kate ignored his childish enthusiasm for what appeared to be a disaster, and she covered her mouth again, but this time it was to help her breathe in the thick smoke. Her attempt to reach the soup kitchen was foiled by a burly police constable.

‘You can’t go no further, miss. It ain’t safe.’

She came to a halt, staring in dismay at the flames shooting up into the summer sky.

Frankie tapped her on the arm. ‘That’s the man who come to our house, miss.’ He pointed to a bent figure, who emerged from the curtain of smoke, coughing and red-eyed.

‘Mr Spears, are you all right?’ Kate caught him by the arm as he was about to wander past.

‘Miss Martin?’ Spears’ eyes were bloodshot and runny, and his face was streaked with soot. ‘They done it – Monks’ gang – but the police don’t want to know.’

‘Are you hurt?’ Kate asked warily. ‘Perhaps you should go to the hospital.’