She’d had invitations from one or two of the neighbours to join them on New Year’s Eve, along with Nathaniel’s mother, but had declined them all. Instead, once Betsy was in bed, she had spent the last night of the old year writing little cards advertising rooms to let which were now displayed in several shop windows. That very morning she’d been along to the Grand Emporium in High Street East and spoken to the manager, a kindly middle-aged little man. He had come to the house a short while later accompanied by an assistant driving a horse and cart, made her an offer on the three-piece suite and taken it away there and then. He’d told her he was doing a house clearance the next day and would have two single beds for sale which he’d hold for her, and that another two would be sure to turn up soon.

Taking the bull by the horns and doing something positive about her situation had helped a little, and now, in the deep twilight of a winter afternoon, Rose sat at the kitchen table making a list of further things to do. At the very top was sourcing work she could manage at home and once she had the two rooms for the prospective lodgers set up and ready she intended to make enquiries. She glanced across at Betsy who was sitting on the clippy mat playing with her rattle and the rag doll Rose had made her for Christmas; the most important thing was making sure her child was kept safe and well and that they were together.

She had just fed Betsy some mashed-up potato and gravy – she had started weaning her after Christmas and now breastfed her only half as much – and then sat the child in her highchair with a hard crust of bread, when the knock came at the back door. She locked it every day when it began to get dark; it gave her time to prepare herself for Nathaniel’s visits rather than him being able to march straight in, although once or twice he had surprised her by calling round in his lunch hour. She’d done everything she could think of to discourage him apart from being downright rude but he seemed to have the hide of a rhinoceros. With some difficulty she had maintained a polite but cool attitude, although she never asked him to sit down or have a cup of tea now. Nevertheless, as sure as eggs were eggs, he’d be back the next day, smiling and charming and outwardly friendly.

No, that last wasn’t quite fair, she told herself as she walked across the kitchen, her stomach churning as it always did when he called round. He was friendly, but there was that something beneath the surface too.