Though I dared not tell Mam, the talk’s been of Sam Finch’s recovery this past week. I knew in my heart it was not my appeal but Annie’s bringing of a death portent that made her leave off whatever curses or poisons she had been laying on him. I was still grateful. A mite less feared for them, for now at least.

Less feared about everything, for I felt a steady strength coursing through me, remembering how I opened myself to the power of the dog when I cursed Molly. I had begun to tame it, learned to use it for my bidding. And the terror in her eyes assured me that she would speak no more dangerous words about me.

Seth lifted his head, blinked. ‘Little one, this is fortuitous.’ The words drawn out, as though torn from him, and slightly slurred. ‘I have need to speak with you.’

My belly tightened, and I left off dreaming of my newly-conquered powers to focus on what was happening right before me. Seth had news and I prayed it be good.

He sighed, reached inside himself and dredged each word out at an agonising pace. ‘I have heard from the family we spoke of. They would be grateful for the labour, and could offer board, food and a small wage in repayment.’

I gasped air into my burning chest.

He slumped his head down on his arms again. ‘I shall marry you tomorrow.’

I rushed to Mam, threw my arms around her. ‘Oh, Mammy. It’s happening, it’s really going to happen.’

She held me fast. ‘You shall be saved.’

‘We all shall. Though we must leave, Daniel has sworn we’ll send for you as soon as we’re able.’

Mam’s face closed, a shield against hope. ‘That one of my childer should have such a life is more than I dreamed.’

‘We’ll send for you, Mam. And you shall come.’

The words run through my mind still as we walk down the hill, his arm over my shoulder and the full weight of him leaning in to me, and I twist the ring around my finger. The smile remains on my lips, even as Seth talks in a constant, low murmur. I catch little, only half-listening.

‘The village is a good journey away, far enough that none may know your family,’ he says. I shift the weight of where he leans higher on to my shoulder. The back of my neck sore and dry from the sun. ‘Past Middon, you must go, you know of it?’

I nod, lick my dry lips.

‘Past Middon, through Aldmore and then it is a way, a long way, with always the sea at your left, and then you shall reach a place called Blackop and, though the name be dark, it is a place of fish, fields and furrows and the people are good and honest to a one.’