‘Where to, miss?’ The cabby leaned towards her. ‘Where d’you want to go?’

‘Do you know of any empty premises to rent near the docks?’

‘A young lady like you don’t want to go there, miss.’

‘Yes, I do,’ Kate said firmly. ‘Do you know of any such places?’

‘It ain’t the sort of area what I’d like any daughter of mine to explore, miss.’

‘Then it’s fortunate that we aren’t related, cabby.’ Kate jingled the coins in her reticule. ‘I can pay, and if it makes you feel better you may wait for us and bring us back to Finsbury Square.’

‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you, miss. Better hop in quick. Me horse is restless and I got a living to earn.’

Kate climbed in to sit beside Jenny.

‘What are you up to, miss?’

‘Wait and see.’ Kate could hardly contain her excitement. Her idea was not a new one; in fact she had visited the lending library the previous week, even before she had met Ivy Harris. Her research had confirmed what Perry had told her previously: parish soup kitchens had been banned by the Poor Law Act of 1834, but one run by charity had been opened a few years earlier in Leicester Square, and some other charities were doing a similar thing in different parts of the East End. As far as she knew, there were none so far in the area she had in mind, and that was why she wanted to go there now.

The cab drew to a halt in Cable Street and the cabby opened the trap door in the roof. ‘Are you sure you want to get out here, miss?’

Kate leaned forward in order to get a better view of the premises with the large ‘To Let’ sign in the window. ‘Yes, that’s exactly what I’m looking for.’

‘It’s a rough area, miss,’ Jenny said nervously. ‘I wouldn’t want to walk these streets on me own, particularly after dark.’

Kate climbed down to the pavement. ‘I intend to open a soup kitchen, Jenny. We’ll open at midday and close immediately after serving food to those who are in desperate need.’ She glanced up and down the street, and she had to agree with Jenny, although she was not going to say so. ‘You can stay in the cab, if you wish. I’m going to knock on the door and see if anyone is there. I want to look inside and see if it’s suitable.’

With obvious reluctance, Jenny stepped down onto the pavement. ‘Your papa would have a fit if he knew what you’re doing. I doubt if your friend Mr Harte would think it proper, either.’

Ignoring Jenny’s protest, Kate hammered on the door with her fist, and she stood back at the sound of footsteps and the turning of a key in the lock.