Pearl wishes she could sink into a trance, but Myrtle’s already striding across the room, puffing up dust as she goes. She grabs her by the earlobe and jerks her to her feet.

It hurts. It really hurts.

‘Miss West, let me explain …’ Agnes starts.

Myrtle thrusts the rushlight holder forward. She must recognise Agnes from the first séance, because she growls, ‘You.’

‘Yes, it is me, Miss Darken. Forgive my audacity, I—’ She breaks off, emotional. Her cheeks are already shining with tears. ‘We can discuss this between us. The child is not to blame.’

Myrtle gives Pearl’s ear a twist and makes her squawk.

‘Please, do not hurt her,’ Agnes cries. ‘It was I who persuaded her to hold a séance—’

‘Then you owe me a bob,’ Myrtle cuts in.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘A shilling,’ Myrtle spits. ‘You use a service, you’ve got to pay for it. Otherwise it’s stealing.’

Agnes is aghast. ‘I … I do not have it.’

‘Guess I’d better call the constable, then.’

Myrtle hates the police almost as much as she hates doctors, Pearl knows she’ll never do it, but Agnes starts to panic, pulls out a purse and offers odd pennies and farthings on an outstretched palm.

It makes Pearl feel better to see the older woman is helpless before her sister, too. She isn’t the only weakling.

Myrtle glowers at the coins for a long time. Finally, she drops Pearl and grabs them. ‘It’ll have to do. Now get your arse off my property.’

Pearl gasps in relief. She raises a hand to cup her smarting ear.

‘Yes, of course,’ Agnes blusters. ‘But please do remember, it was my fault entirely—’

‘I won’t tell you again.’

Shooting an apologetic glance at Pearl, Agnes hurries out of the door.

They hear her stumbling down the stairs in the dark.

Pearl looks at her feet; it seems the safest place. Panic’s crashing inside her head, but maybe the money will calm Myrtle down, maybe she won’t be furious enough to … what? She doesn’t even know what Myrtle will do. She’s never crossed her this badly before.

‘You ungrateful little bitch,’ she snarls.

Pearl can’t utter a word.

‘All I’ve done for you, and here you are, stealing bread out of my very mouth.’ When Myrtle’s in a good mood, her voice can cradle you. Right now it sounds like smashing crockery. ‘Get down those stairs. Now.’

Pearl’s legs are weaker than water. She lurches, rather than walks, but Myrtle comes up behind her and the motion of her sister’s knees against her back seems to push her on.