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her ankle and bang her elbow so that walking had been painful for a fortnight.
    It had been pretty gormless of her, she knew that now. Suppose she’d killed herself? What would Merry have done? She was nobbut a babby at the time. And how could she have done without her lovely Ben? He was a grand lad, whatever his beginnings.
    ‘What’s the matter, Granma?’
    Merry had come into the sluice and seen her leaning over the brownstone slab. ‘Come and sit down,’ she said. ‘You look as white as a sheet. Is it the pain in your chest again? Will I get something from the doctor?’
    ‘No, don’t tell . . .’
    But Peggy was too late, Merry had already gone into the ward where Dr Gallagher was doing a round with Sister Harrison. Seconds later she was back, followed by both the sister and doctor.
    ‘What’s all this then, Mrs Trent?’ Sister Harrison asked. If there was one thing she couldn’t abide it was the cleaning staff or indeed, any junior staff, interrupting a ward round for whatever reason. But Peggy didn’t care what Sister thought by this time. The pain was grippingher chest like a vice and was getting worse. She was slipping down onto the floor when Dr Gallagher caught her and picked her up as though she was a bairn. He strode into the ward and laid her – horror of horrors – on the clean bedspread of an empty bed.
    ‘Nurse!’ Sister called up the ward and a junior nurse came running. ‘Help me remove the bedspread at least,’ she ordered.
    ‘And make Mrs Trent comfortable,’ the doctor said quietly. He gazed searchingly at Peggy. ‘How are you feeling now?’
    ‘Better, Doctor, thank you.’ Peggy looked up at him anxiously. ‘I’d best get on with my work.’
    ‘Now then, I think you’d better stay where you are for today.’ He replied. ‘Even if you are feeling better.’
    ‘Merry shouldn’t have got you, I’m fine,’ said Peggy. And even Merry could see she was looking better. ‘It was just a turn, I’m over it now.’
    ‘There you are, no need to waste the doctor’s time then, is there?’ said Sister Harrison. She had one eye on the ward door for she was expecting Matron’s round and Matron was a stickler for the rules which stated that the beds were for the pauper inmates. Of course, if the woman was really ill it would be different but she said herself she was all right now.
    ‘My granddaughter can take me home, sir,’ said Peggy. Merry was standing at the bottom of the bed,watching anxiously. Dr Gallagher glanced at her – she was little more than a child, he thought. But he knew the rules as well as they did. He was well aware too that if the old woman lost her job she could easily be replaced by one of the workhouse inmates, some of whom were able-bodied.
    Sister looked at the wall clock hanging over the entrance to the ward. It was close to finishing time for both Peggy and her granddaughter.
    ‘Go then, I’ll tell Matron you were unwell,’ she said. She pulled a face at the young doctor, which was intended to convey her dissatisfaction with the help brought in from outside Oaklands, the workhouse. But Dr Gallagher wasn’t looking at her, he was watching as Peggy climbed slowly off the bed. She stood up straight and had got a little colour back in her cheeks so perhaps she would be all right, he thought.
    The ward door opened and Matron sailed in. She stared unsmiling at the group then looked to Sister Harrison who explained the situation.
    ‘You will have to come in half an hour early to make up the time tomorrow, Miranda Trent,’ said Matron. ‘As for you, Mrs Trent, we have no room for anyone who is not able to do the work. Merry can collect what is owing to you tomorrow. Goodbye.’
    Dr Gallagher left the ward before he said anything he might regret. After all, it was the way of it, it was truethat the Board of Guardians were hard pressed lately with some of the pits working short time. The men should move away and get jobs in a more prosperous part of