Matthew had already set off for the market, which was just a couple of streets away, and now Rose ushered Betsy out of the house in front of her and locked the front door. No one locked or bolted their doors in the community apart from her, she knew that, but she wouldn’t have been able to rest if she didn’t. As time had gone on the fear of Nathaniel finding them had lessened to a large extent but it was still there, hovering at the back of her mind and occasionally erupting from her subconscious in dark, troubled dreams. Often the mill would feature too. She had come to terms with the part she had played in the miller’s death but it still weighed heavy, especially when she was tired. That whole episode in her life was like an ugly spectre sitting on her shoulder, and to ward it off she kept herself busy every waking hour, often falling into bed so exhausted that she was barely able to undress.

She managed the stall at the market six days a week, arriving before eight o’clock in the morning and leaving at three in order to collect Betsy from school. On school mornings she took Betsy to Amy and Frank’s house in the next street, and her friend delivered the child to school for nine o’clock. Rose liked to pick Betsy up herself in the afternoons though, so that her daughter could tell her all about her day and they had some time together before tea.

Once Betsy was in bed, Rose began the first batch of baking for the next day. Biscuits, tarts, fruit loaves and jam rolls mostly. Other items, such as scones and cakes and bread, she liked to make fresh in the morning, rising at three o’clock most days. This regime meant Rose rarely had more than four hours’ sleep, except for a Saturday when she fell into her bed as soon as Betsy was asleep and slept in on the Sunday morning. It was a punishing schedule but she’d got used to it, and the fact that her little business was such a success made the long hours worthwhile.

At the very beginning, she’d made no profit for some weeks and had actually lost money when she’d been left with baskets of food at the end of the day. She’d gifted this to Amy and Daisy and her neighbours. She knew it was because she charged more than other stalls with similar produce, but had felt she must start as she intended to carry on. However, anyone who did buy her goods always returned, and within three months she was having to bake more as she’d sold out before the end of the day. She sourced her ingredients as cheaply as she could but made sure the quality was good and that the flour was never bulked up with chalk.