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big and small. But the city miasma still wrapped around us here like
     a bonnet veil, and we might as well still have been in So-ho, for all the paupers and orphans and tollings of the workhouse
     bell. And we were little better than them; this was all we could afford, and all we were good for. As we traipsed around the
     Borough looking for somewhere reasonable, in the tiny stretch of salubrity between the river tenements to the north and the
     slums of Lambeth proper to the south, I clutched the words of William Blake’s words to my bosom:
    There is a Grain of Sand in Lambeth that Satan cannot find
    Nor can his Watch Fiends find it: ‘tis translucent & has many
    Angles
    But in Blake’s days, at Hercules-place, Lambeth was still blessed; for him it was the place of the Lamb. But for me, it was
     as hard as it was for Satan to find that grain of sand in Lambeth, and Ivy-street, and the protection of Mrs Eeles from the
     more sordid types, seemed to be the best we could hope for.
    Peter still said nothing. Unthinkingly, but as if I were already recognising the need for further frugality, I rose and went
     over to lower the lamp. The room dimmed, and felt smaller as the flickering shadows from the fire increased. I looked at my
     husband, who was not looking at me, through the gloom. We spent the rest of the evening listening to the endless patter of
     rain on cobbles; whoever the gas was lit for that evening on the streets of Lambeth, it was not for us.

Chapter Two
    What’s in the cupboard?
    Says Mr Hubbard.
    A knuckle of veal, Says Mr Beal.
    Is that all?
    Says Mr Ball.
    And enough too, Says Mr Glue;
    And away they all flew.
    N either Sven nor Jack appeared for work the following morning, and Peter went out soon after they were due to arrive. I had
     hoped he had gone to see that Diprose fellow he had mentioned, the medical books man, but he didn’t show up again, not even
     that night. Truth be told, I was quite grateful, for our food supplies had dwindled, and he was the main consumer. I spent
     the day increasing my already vigorous household thrift: the paper that I usually kept for twisting into spills, I sold instead
     to the rag-and-bone man, along with any old bones and scraps of cloth I did not need for dusting. I combined the contents
     of three biscuit boxes and two jam-bottles and sold them to him too, along with two pewter tankards. I would even have sold
     our left-over food to his friend the washman for pigswill, but we were eating every last morsel we had. I rushed to the door
     when I heard the bell ringing and the cry of ‘Old clothes!’; it was the Jew with twenty hats piled on his head like the Tower
     of Pisa. I sold him Peter’s summer hat, two of my three bonnets, a blanket and a petticoat, and a pint of dripping. And I
     scrubbed the house as best I could, and put the cleanest white cloth I could muster on the table that night. It was important
     to me that when Peter returned he could still have faith in his own fireside. In all the distress and unpredictability of
     his commercial life, it was here, amongst the household gods, where he would find peace and calm. For this want of work, I
     knew, would tax us sore, and would test the mettle of a worn man.
    I trusted that tomorrow he would return with good news, and that I would not need to trouble him with women’s worries, such
     as the price of groceries, or the state of my pans, or that Mrs Eeles had paid yet another visit just after the rag-and-bone
     man had left. Besides, I had long struggled to cultivate the air of resourcefulness and industry, cheerfulness and forbearance
     – I had even taken to serving Peter’s bread cold and not quite fresh, to make the butter go further – and I did not want him
     ever to wonder if his poverty was due to my poor husbandry.
    But when he did not return the next day, or night either, I started to think. I traced my hands over everything in the two
     bedrooms to see what we could lose – we kept the