The morning was numbingly cold and a strong wind was blowing that spoke of more snow as she left the establishment on the south side of Midge Holmes. She had only been in the house a matter of minutes; the clergyman’s wife had taken one look at Betsy and declared Rose was quite unsuitable for the position. As she walked down the front garden path, Betsy snuggled into her chest, she thought longingly of the pram she’d had to leave in Sunderland. It would have kept the baby warm and dry and protected from the north-easterly wind. She’d wrapped Betsy up as best she could but still her little nose was bright red with the cold.

She’d just opened the gate leading on to the lane she’d walked down five minutes before when she heard someone behind her. Turning, she found the small maid who had opened the door to her initially hot on her heels. Her voice little more than a whisper, the young girl said, ‘I hope you don’t think I’m poking me nose in, but you come about the job, didn’t you?’

‘The cook-cum-housekeeper position, yes.’

With a quick glance behind her, the girl muttered, ‘I’ve gotta be quick, the mistress won’t like me talkin’ to you, but I wondered if you knew about the hirings at the beginning of every month at Birtley market? First Monday they are. Course, it’s not called the hirings any more, not like years ago, but a lot of the country folk hereabouts, farmers an’ the like, still go there if they want labourers an’ stable hands, an’ women to work inside an’ all. Me sister, our Dolly, was left with a bairn when her intended skedaddled after putting her in the family way, scum he was. Anyway, she got taken on by a farmer over near Whickham. The thing is’ – the girl’s tone became apologetic – ‘they’re not so particular at the hirings, if you know what I mean.’

Rose nodded. She wasn’t about to explain that she was a widow; the girl probably wouldn’t believe her anyway and she didn’t want to appear as though she thought herself better than the maid’s sister. ‘Thank you, I didn’t know about it, no.’

‘Aye, well, I’d try your luck there, in front of the Pig and Whistle, all right?’ The maid bent forward, tweaking the blanket away from Betsy’s face as she said, ‘Aw, she’s a bonny little thing, isn’t she. I can see why you wanted to keep her.’

Rose was saved a reply as a voice sounded from the doorway: ‘Bernice? What do you think you’re doing?’