Rosina sighed and a shiver ran up her spine. She had chosen to put it out of her mind, but she knew only too well that poverty marched alongside wealth in the great city of London. Misfortune, disease and death could strike anyone at any time. She walked on; she would not think about that now, and she would not be unhappy today. The month was May; her favourite time of the year, when the late spring sunshine warmed the cold pavements of East London and banished the pea-souper fogs into a dim memory. She had been born in May and her family name was May - the month truly did belong to her. This is a fiction [barcode].