Bermondsey, November 1887. Her father's oven has gone cold, the flour factor holds a bill of sale on it for forty-one pounds, and the whole street laughs when nineteen-year-old Nell Darkin says she can fire it herself.

She can. She has done it every night since she was ten. And her father left her more than an oven — a chalked tally board, two years deep, that says every sack Holland ever sold him was light.

Every dawn a quiet stranger in a brown coat buys a quartern loaf from her and says almost nothing. He calls himself Mr Ashe, a surveyor. The street does not know whose street it is standing on.

By Quarter Day — Christmas morning — the sacks will go on the scales in front of everyone who laughed.

A story of honest weight, stolen bread and a debt made of air in Victorian London.

🎧 Best with headphones. Settle in — this is a full-length story.

Characters, places and events in this story are fictional.

#VictorianLondon #HistoricalDrama #AudioStory