Hannah’s heart was thumping as she rubbed at her sore head. ‘That day in your bedroom,’ she squeaked, afraid of what reaction she was going to get.

There was a long pause. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘You were with Bill and telling him off.’

‘I think you’re confused. You didn’t see anything, so—’

‘But I—’

‘Don’t interrupt me when I am talking to you.’ Mrs W’s face was stone.

‘Sorry, Mrs Wickham.’ The tears were falling again now and she couldn’t stop them.

‘Stop crying, girl. Your tears don’t wash with me. You clearly have a problem with the truth. Lying about me and about my son.’

‘I’m not. I promise.’

‘There you go again. Do you have any idea how disgusting that is? Dropping your knickers for a boy? They have names for girls like you. Dirty little sluts. I wonder what your mother and stepfather will say when I tell them what you did.’

‘Please, no. Please don’t tell them.’ Her mum was going to be so disappointed.

‘She needs to know what a dirty little girl she has.’

‘Please, I’m begging you, Mrs Wickham.’

‘You need to be taught a lesson, young lady. My Bill is a good boy. I won’t have you trying to seduce him and turn his head with your filth.’

‘It… wasn’t… like… that…’ Hannah was struggling to speak now between sobs.

‘Stop it with your lies! I’ll give you something to cry about.’

When Mrs W went over to the cellar door, unlocking it, Hannah froze. If she hadn’t been sitting down, her legs would have probably collapsed beneath her. What was the woman going to do?

‘Get inside. Let’s see what Mr Bennett thinks about liars and sluts.’

‘No! Please, no.’

‘Get inside, Hannah, now. Bad girls need to be punished.’

Hannah glanced at the back door, wanting to make a run for it, but she was too scared. Every part of her was wobbling like a jelly. ‘I don’t want to go down there. Please don’t make me.’

She could barely see through her tears now and they turned to screams as Mrs W dragged her off the chair, pushing her inside the cellar and down the stairs. Had the woman not had hold of her, she would have stumbled and fallen.

The air was damp and musty, the temperature cool, and even through her tears, Hannah could see there was barely any light.

Mrs W pushed her over to another door, pulling up the bolt and swinging it open to reveal a tiny room. A cupboard of sorts, though it was mostly empty. And then she was shoving Hannah inside, hard enough that she fell back against the wall, and although Hannah tried to fight back, to get out of the cupboard, she wasn’t strong enough, the door slamming shut and almost catching her fingers.