"Oh, you.. you really do?" said Anne. Her cheeks coloured a little, but she was really quite pleased. It wasn't one of the spacious newer homes like the one the Blackes lived in, with a separate kitchen and living room and a whole upstairs plan. Neither did they have a private garden. But Mable said it felt like home!

"Well, we ain't got much time. But well... She pointed at the kitchen range. "There's our kitchen, and well, this is the room we spend most time in. My father sleeps there," she pointed at the bedstead. "And my brothers sleep up in the attic." She pointed at the trap door in the ceiling. And I sleep here." She moved to the one remaining door and opened it. The small room behind it was dark, for there was brown curtain covering the window. There was an iron bed with an old matrass and blankets and some decorated pillows, a chamberpot tucked under the bed, a dressing screen in the back, a wooden cupboard, and a ragrug on the stone floor. "I used to sleep 'ere with me sister Alice." She felt her sister's absence most strongly at night when she lay alone in the dark and hugged herself and sent whispered prayers of comfort across the moors.