‘Said he’s got errands to do in town and he’ll come by later for the answer.’

May scribbled a note, agreeing to meet Patty outside St Barnabas’s Church in Parliament Street the following Sunday afternoon. Sometime later there was a knock at the back door, but when May moved to answer it Mrs Wilkins took the note from her.

‘Oh no you don’t, miss. I’ll see to this.’

May heard her say, ‘Here, you can take this, and make sure you deliver it. And I don’t expect to see you round here again. Understand?’

The following Sunday May put on her new bonnet and cape, bought with the wages Mr Freeman had given her, and set off for the church. It was November, the sky was grey and the familiar icy wind was scything up the Mersey estuary. She found Patty huddled up in the church porch, with her old shawl pulled tight around her throat. Her friend jumped up as soon as she appeared and flung her arms round her.

‘Oh, May, am I glad to see you! I’ve been pining for the sight of a friendly face.’

May looked at her, horrified by her pallor and the thinness of her shoulders under the shawl. ‘Patty, what’s the matter? Are you ill?’

Patty shrugged. ‘Not ill, as such. Just hungry and cold and fed up. But look at you! Don’t you look smart! How did you come by that bonnet and that cape?’

‘Bought them, out of my wages.’

‘You get wages?’

‘Don’t you?’

‘I’m supposed to, but I ain’t seen none yet.’

‘I didn’t either, for a long time. But then Mr Freeman found out and he told madam that I’d got to be paid – and he gave me the back pay I was owed.’

‘Lucky you!’

‘I thought you would be doing all right, working in a fine house like that.’

‘Fine it may be, for them as owns it. And for the top servants, maybe. They do all right. But not for the likes of me.’ Tears came to her eyes. ‘I’m the lowest of the low, May, at everyone’s beck and call. It’s Patty do this and Patty come here, from first light till bedtime, and if I make a mistake or drop something I’m punished.’

‘Punished how?’

‘Oh, sometimes it’s “That’ll come out of your wages”, which is why I’ve never seen any, I suppose. Or being sent to bed without any supper, or given extra work to do. It depends who’s saying it. Isn’t it like that where you are?’

‘Well, Mrs Wilkins, the cook, is a bit of a dragon and she’s got Mrs Freeman wound round her little finger. But Mr Freeman’s all right. He stands up for me. What are the people you work for like?’