The wretched woman lay quite still conserving energy but her emaciated frame gave her the appearance of a dead thing.

Yesterday's feeding had been particularly violent, her nostril had split and was caked in dry blood and the remnants of yellow vomit still clung to her robe.

No doubt her mother would meet her on release. Her humiliated and shamed mother who though ridiculed by friends and neighbours found it impossible to ignore her daughter’s plight.

"Drink this;" she’ll plead, offering up a homemade tonic.

"Into the carriage, before anyone sees us, come, come."

As a girl she’d sat in the back garden watching Harold their well-fed Tom toy with his rodent prey.

Spinning it around until the poor creature was weak with giddiness, allowing it a short respite while it staggered off to assumed freedom, like a drunkard trying to walk a straight line but just as it thought it safe, Harold would pounce yet again. The game wasn’t finished; no it would go on and on, until the unwilling competitor gave up.

The bolt was released and the heavy iron door dragged open.

"You can be off now, Madam."

The guard was used to her now, some of them didn’t return, they were so weakened and traumatised by the prison experience they generally withered and died. It would be hushed up and the consumption blamed or thankfully for the Government, they were simply not fit enough to carry on the fight.

But not this one, this mouse was not going to go easily.

"If they’re the educated ones, heaven help the others."

Her mother was there, her face a mixture of pride and sorrow, she was holding a banner bearing the slogan, DEEDS NOT WORDS, though Annie’s form crumbled her heart soared.