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concerned, her brother was nothing to her now and she’d taken another surname because she didn’t want to disgrace the memory of Emerick.
     
    When Emmy came home carrying a new loaf, the landlady peered out of her room near the front door. ‘Your ma’s got a visitor.’
    ‘Who is it?’
    ‘That big fellow she’s been seeing. He must have plenty o’ money. She’s right up to date with the rent.’
    Emmy hesitated then went outside again to perch on her favourite bit of wall, casually side-stepping two urchins bent on tripping her up and giving the nearest one a shove. ‘I’ll scratch your eyes out if you try to take my bread,’ she threatened.
    They hooted with laughter but turned away. Emmy Carter could defend herself better than most and had a piercing voice that brought folk running. Besides, she’d chosen her vantage point on the wall carefully. If they openly attacked her, the man in the small shop opposite would come out with his cudgel. He’d done it before to make sure his customers felt safe.
    It was nearly two hours before the front door banged open and George went striding away down the street without even noticing Emmy. By that time she had eaten the crust from one end of the loaf, picking it off piece by piece with her fingers.
    When she went up to their room she expected to find her mother still in bed, but to her astonishment Madge was piling the few dishes from the crockery shelf and the three cooking implements, kettle, stew-pan and long-handled frying pan, all rarely used, on to the table and frowning at them. ‘Oh, hello, love. Put the loaf down and help me decide. We’re leaving tomorrow morning. Should we take all these things with us? This plate’s cracked, for a start.’
    ‘We’re leaving tomorrow!’
    ‘Yes. Isn’t it exciting? I’m sure you’ll like living in Northby.’
    Emmy was sure she wouldn’t. ‘Couldn’t we wait a day or two so we can say goodbye to people?’
    Madge avoided her eyes. ‘Who’s there to say goodbye to?’
    ‘Well, the ladies at the Mission.’
    ‘Them! They’ve given you some silly ideas, them nose-in-the-air ladies have. You’re better off without them. They don’t understand what life is really like for poor folk.’
    ‘But they’ve been teaching me to read and they gave me this dress.’
    ‘I’ll buy you plenty of dresses from now on. You won’t need anyone’s charity.’
    But Emmy knew she would. Whenever her mother had money it went on gin or clothes for herself, not on her daughter unless the need was urgent.
    George’s cousin Gus turned up an hour later and dumped a couple of battered boxes, one full of straw, in their room. Grumbling about the steepness of the stairs, he went on his way after a caution to them to be ready on time the next morning.
    Within an hour they had packed everything except for their bedding, which they could bundle up in the sheets when they got up. There had been no need to start packing so early, but Emmy knew her mother and did not protest.
    When there was nothing else to do Emmy sat on the stool and Madge on their one chair, a rickety wooden thing with a spoke missing from the back.
    ‘Not much to show for all my hard work, is there?’
    Emmy tried to cheer her mother up, worried she’d start drinking again. ‘If I can find work in Northby, we’ll be able to buy some much nicer things.’ She dreamed sometimes of a little cottage with curtains and tablecloths, sheets and soft blankets. And a polished brass fender which she’d keep nice and shiny. The ladies had one in the Mission and she loved its bright gleam.
    She wished she looked older or was taller - and wasn’t Madge Carter’s daughter. She earned a few pence here and there when she could, helping out in the kitchen of the inn at the end of the street, running errands or minding people’s babies. The only thing that would resign her to moving to Northby would be finding a proper job and having her own money coming in regularly. When