Daisy was a little calmer by the time Rose waved her goodbye. She had sent Amy’s sister off with a basketful of food – crusty rolls, a slab of long oblong shortbread with cherries in the centre and crystallized sugar sprinkled on the top, pastries and cakes. She watched as Daisy trudged down the street, her shoulders bowed and her head down, and her heart went out to her. They had been such a happy little family and in one fell swoop everything had changed. She knew how that felt better than anyone. But Daisy would survive, the same as she had survived. Northern women were strong, they had to be; it was the same for all their sex in this male-dominated environment the world had become. The image which men – especially working-class men – had of the ‘little woman’ at home had to change. Emmeline Pankhurst and her followers were right.

She thought about Daisy all afternoon and when she went to fetch Betsy from school she saw Amy, who had come to collect Daisy’s three older girls and filled her in on what they had agreed. ‘Cor, lass, it was a good wind that blew you into our lives and no mistake,’ Amy said, hugging her. ‘Me mam an’ da say ta an’ all, by the way.’

Rose smiled but didn’t say anything. She had got the distinct impression that Wilbur and Tessa Croft faintly disapproved of her taking over the bakery, but maybe they would change their minds now it was benefiting Daisy. They were old school, the Crofts, and when Frank had said he didn’t want Amy working outside the home in spite of the fact that a little job of some kind, even just helping her in the shop, would have done Amy the world of good, her parents had backed him one hundred per cent.

Later that night as she lay in bed she found she couldn’t sleep, in spite of being completely exhausted as she was every day by bedtime. She couldn’t stop thinking about Alexander, going over everything he had said that last time she had seen him, picturing him in her mind’s eye. She had done the right thing in refusing to correspond with him, it would have been a recipe for disaster, but . . . No. No buts, she chided herself in the next moment. Life went on. She had made her decision and it was the right one, and she must not doubt herself now. It would be madness to be thrown into the sort of turmoil she’d experienced after he had come to the house. She hadn’t been able to eat for days and hadn’t known if she was coming or going. The whole thing was ridiculous.