‘Oh, you poor baby; what an absolutely horrid dream,’ Glenys said, very distressed. ‘Did you tell Jimmy about it? Sometimes it’s better not to try to keep frightening things to yourself. But I promise you, your daddy wouldn’t hurt anyone, least of all you or Jimmy. He’s a very kind and gentle man, and he loves you very much.’

Mo looked doubtful. ‘He was horrid to you when you first met,’ she pointed out, and then added with the shrewdness of one a good deal older than six, ‘He’s nice to everyone now, but I can’t help remembering that awful dream.’

Glenys began to clean down the table so that she and Mo might lay it ready for the next meal. She was thinking hard. If Mo told Sam about the dream he would do his best to reassure her, but being only human he might be upset by the fact that she had seen him as a bad person, the enemy rather than the hero. She could not leave things as they stood at present, she must do her utmost to put things right, but how? She knew that Sam’s original jealousy of her had disappeared and they were now good friends, and she did not want to spoil the relationship by mishandling such a sensitive subject. She was still pondering over what best to do when there was a knock on the back door and it was flung open to reveal a scruffy man in working clothes. He gave her a broad grin. ‘All right if I come in, missus?’ he asked. ‘’Tis mortal cold out here and Master said I were to tell you to put the kettle on.’

There was no need for Glenys to assure the stranger that he might come in out of the cold, for he was already inside, slamming the door and making his way determinedly towards the kitchen table, a hand already reaching for the scones.

‘Hang on a minute; don’t touch the baking until you’ve washed your hands,’ Glenys said quickly. ‘I’ll pump you some water and then you can tell me who you are. I can see you’re a farm worker . . .’ Inside her head she was thinking and I can smell you’re one, too.

Mo looked up from her task of laying out the cutlery. ‘He’s Pete the Sheep,’ she informed Glenys. ‘He’s a shepherd and he works for the Evanses ’cos they’ve got a whole load of sheep, but Taid employs him for the odd couple of days when he needs an extra pair of hands.’ She turned from Glenys to the stranger. ‘What do you want?’ she said baldly. ‘I thought Taid said you needn’t come to us until the snow was completely cleared away and spring was coming through.’

The little man gave her a malevolent look. He was small and almost square with eyes like dull pebbles set in folds of flesh and a loose-lipped mouth. He was filthy dirty and looked as though he had not seen water or soap for several weeks, and when Glenys drew another tray of scones from the oven he snatched one without so much as a by your leave and crammed it into his mouth. Then he sat himself down at the table and grinned at her, revealing that he only had one tooth.