Sunday Small’s escape from Yew Tree Farm turns an immediate attempt at sexual coercion into a decisive act of self-preservation. After Bill Barnes climbs the ladder to her attic room, she strikes him with a work boot and sends him crashing back to the floor. His family’s response makes clear that she cannot expect protection at the farm. She plans to leave under cover of darkness, and after a long walk reaches Tom Branning’s cottage, where he takes her in.

The threat at the farm

Sunday is already isolated at Yew Tree Farm when she hears the ladder to her attic room creak in the night. The only light comes through the hatch from the dying fire below; in the dark, she searches for something with which to defend herself and finds her old work boots. Crawling across the floorboards, she waits at the opening. When Bill’s head appears, she brings the boot down on it with all her strength. His hands release the ladder, and he falls back to the floor.

The next morning confirms that the danger is not simply Bill’s conduct but the household’s willingness to excuse it. Sunday sees the bruise on his forehead and feels no guilt: she understands that he had climbed toward her room to force himself on her. Yet his parents treat her as if she had wronged him. The household’s reversal of blame leaves her with no reason to believe she will be safe if she stays. Her escape begins not as a general search for a new life but as a response to the immediate threat of Bill trying again.

The decision to leave

At breakfast, Sunday carries on with her duties while privately working out what she can do. In the laundry room, she pummels the washing in the dolly tub as she thinks through her options. By lunchtime, she has decided to leave in the early hours, when the family is asleep. She fears going out alone in the dark, but judges that remaining at the farm would leave Bill another chance to get the better of her.

Her first plan is to go to Verity Lockett at the vicarage, trusting that Verity will help. As the evening passes, Sunday packs her belongings into her largest bag and waits for the household to settle. She listens for signs that Bill might climb to her room again, then waits until the grandfather clock strikes one. The careful timing, the packed bag, and her attention to every sound show how narrow her margin for escape is: she must leave quietly, without knowing where she will go after reaching safety.

The night journey

Sunday climbs down the ladder with her bag and crosses to the back door. The bolt is stiff; when she finally shoots it across, its sound cracks through the room like a gunshot. She holds her breath, but the house remains quiet. Outside, the dog comes from its kennel with its hackles raised, then retreats when it recognizes her. Sunday continues on foot. By the time she pauses, she is a mile from the farm and sees no sign that anyone is following.

The route to Coton is long, and Sunday is exhausted by the time the spire of Chilvers Coton church comes into view. She is now reluctant to involve Verity in her difficulties and thinks instead of Tom, who lives near the church. Because she knows many of the people in the cottages in Shepperton Street, she can guess which one he rents. It is about three or four in the morning. She dislikes disturbing him, but sees no better choice, taps at the door, and waits anxiously to discover whether she has found the right cottage.

Refuge and significance

Tom opens the door only a crack at first, but quickly wakes fully when he sees Sunday. He takes her inside and lights the oil lamp. Seeing him in his trousers with his braces dangling, she averts her eyes as he asks what has happened. He puts more logs on the dying fire, places the kettle in the flames, and leads her to a chair. The contrast is sharp: at the farm, Sunday had to arm herself and flee; at Tom’s cottage, he immediately makes space for her and attends to her need to explain.

The escape also reflects the discipline Sunday has acquired through earlier vulnerability. At the workhouse, she endured punishment in a dark cellar without food or drink; she recalls that she would have been kept there longer had Mrs Lockett not come looking for her. She has also trained herself not to cry, knowing how much Miss Frost enjoyed seeing punished children weep. These experiences do not make the danger at the farm less immediate, but they help define the resolve with which Sunday meets it: she acts when Bill reaches the attic, then turns her fear into a practical plan. Reaching Tom’s door does not settle her future, but it ends her immediate isolation and brings her to someone she believes will help.