He was mistaken. Daniel knew that his dreams had been spun through not with Phyllis’s eyes but the raging colours of Sarah’s. Against his will, the memory of her body pressed against his as they rode Bonny, the barbs and later softening of her words, had kept him awake and brought other sinful urges that he had struggled to resist.

Daniel rose and dressed, too impatient to wait for the sun to break its slumber. The air still held a chill this early, but he knew from the cloudless sky that the day would be warm. On his way to check the pea field, the air laced with smoke as the bramble and bracken roots smouldered, Gabriel grabbed him from behind and shoved him against the wall of the house. Daniel glanced past Gabriel’s shoulder, relieved at least that no one witnessed his humiliation. Too exhausted to put up a pointless struggle.

‘Don’t think I’ve forgot you’ve stole my chance to have justice out with they devils up the hill,’ Gabriel said, face so close to Daniel’s that spittle splashed his cheek. ‘Don’t think I won’t find my time. That bitch will pay.’

He left, and Daniel rested against the wall, catching his breath. The Haworths were feared, even hated, by some in the village, but he had never heard Gabriel speak against them until recently.

He brushed himself down, cleared his throat, and walked to the field in a way that he hoped showed a lack of care. He did not know how he had turned the crowd from Sarah’s house once, and could not imagine doing so again. He had neither strength nor standing.

Daniel worked all day, raking the remains of the root pyre and spreading it in preparation for sowing, the scent of smoke and soil not unpleasant as he smoothed an even grey coating over the ground. His eyes stung and watered, his throat was dry and tasted of ash. Back ached, hands blistered. The discomfort should have overwhelmed him, the labour exhausted him. Yet as he worked, as he washed and ate and settled to sleep, the image of Sarah would not leave him, nor did he wish it to. As though she stood at his side throughout the day.

The knock at the door was unexpected. Daniel, Father and Gabriel had finished their morning tasks and were about to leave. They exchanged a perplexed look; they rarely received visitors and never on a Sunday morning.

On her way out anyway, Bett opened the door.

‘Have you forgot it’s Sunday?’ they heard her ask. ‘I’ll be baking no bread for you today.’

‘’Tis not you I came to see,’ a voice answered.

Bett looked at Daniel, jerked her head towards the door and left. He glanced at Father, who raised his eyebrows in a silent question, shrugged and stepped over.