‘I shall happily take the risk,’ he says. Steps forward, arms around my waist, lips on mine. Body pressed against me, and he kisses me until I cannot breathe and no longer wish to, if only this can continue, and the blood races through me, warming my skin and beating through my head and I long to lie on the bank, pull him to me.

Sun rises and calls me from a content, comfortable sleep. I lace the stays and quickly tie the belt around my petticoat. Hold the pins in my teeth, twist hair into place and fasten it with a blind but expert hand, position the coif.

There is more to my life as dairymaid than I first thought; not just milking but also helping Bett with any work she chooses, from herding the geese to washing laundry in the beck. I relish each one, hoarding every new skill. Daniel has taught me to ride Bonny, even to swim, though I dare not go in deep. It is more than I ever imagined.

At meals I don’t wait for invitation, but fill my bowl with pottage, so much richer than at home, and eat as the others do. As much as I desire, more than I need. A marvel to me, still.

‘You’re filling out,’ Gabriel says as he waits in the doorway for Daniel to collect their basket of food. ‘See how your cheeks have plumped.’

I glance at him, do not respond. Can barely disguise my aversion.

Mr Taylor snorts. ‘That’s not the kind of comment to appeal to a young lass.’

Gabriel looks confused, but perseveres. ‘’Tis a fine thing. Sign of a healthy girl, good appetite, ruddy cheeks.’

‘Thank you,’ I say. Glance at Daniel, but he’s looking at Gabriel, frowning.

‘So my mam says, anyway.’ Gabriel’s face is the colour of the turnip we ate last night.

‘Does she?’

‘Yes, the poor old crab. I shall never be free to leave her, as you have.’ He laughs, and I know it’s meant as a clumsy jest, but I’m assaulted with yearning for Mam, Annie and John, so strongly that I feel it ripple across my face.

‘I’m sure Sarah misses her family,’ Daniel says. ‘And they her.’ I smile, comforted not only by his words but also, to my shame, by Gabriel’s miserable silence as he stares down at his hands.

‘Well,’ Mr Taylor says. ‘Miss you they might, but they’ll be glad of your wages when the year comes to an end.’ Blood trickles from his nose.

‘Oh,’ I say. ‘I can cure you of that.’

All heads turn to me and I remember, too late, that I am dairymaid not cunning folk here. Mr Taylor wipes his nose, but it continues to bleed.