‘I – I saw it done, once. Far away in my own – in the parts where I dwelled.’ I should stop, but it’s too late. My knowledge is spoken. And even now, despite danger of discovery, there is pride in sharing it.

I gently tip his head forward, catch the drops of blood in my cupped hand. He is silent, doing my bidding. Gabriel gives an uncertain laugh. ‘Well, lassie, how come you by such skills? It’s almost like you’re—’

Disquiet makes me short-tempered. ‘I told you, I saw – I remember how it was done.’ I look straight at Daniel. He sits pale and wide-eyed. Feared, and I know why, but I cannot stop now. ‘Fetch me the shovel.’

He nods and together we kneel by the fire. He holds the shovel, I drip the blood into it. ‘Hold it over the flame,’ I say.

He does my bidding, though the shovel trembles in his grip. Soon the drops are dried to dust. Casting my eyes about, I spy Bett’s goose-feather duster.

I catch Gabriel’s eye and nod to it. ‘Pluck me one of those.’

He laughs, glances from me to Mr Taylor, who simply shrugs. ‘Aye, aye, all right,’ Gabriel says, bringing me a feather. With care, as I’ve seen Mam do, I brush the dust on to the feather and, as Mr Taylor leans down when I bid him, blow it into his nose.

‘There,’ I say. ‘You’ll be cured while the first task’s done.’

I look around at them. All three stare at me. Gabriel and Mr Taylor with bemusement, Daniel with something verging on terror.

‘I – at least, that’s how I think it was done. I saw it once.’

Mr Taylor reaches for his hat. ‘Aye, well. Thank you, lass. But now, let’s about our day.’

I hurry out, before Daniel can take me aside and question me. Happy to help Bett with the cheese. Gabriel runs to catch up with me before I can reach the dairy.

‘That were a good trick,’ he says.

‘No trick. I saw it done.’

‘I – I did not mean to offend,’ he says. ‘Before, when we were—’

‘I know you did it without thought to.’

He takes off his cap and turns it in his hands, looking at me with a worried expression. I wish I could curse him again, to be away from here and never return. Drawing myself up I lift my chin, meet his eye, hoping he’ll lose his nerve. Just as I faced him the day he hit me.

‘Well, I – wait …’ He stoops to peer at my face, narrows his eyes. ‘Sometimes I could almost think that … We do not – know each other?’

His words thrill through me, a warning, and I fight the urge to leave. I should have stopped myself from curing Mr Taylor. ‘How could we?’

He continues to squint at me. ‘You almost make me think of—’