He pulled me to him, wrapped me in his arms, spinning a tale, a beautiful scene picked out in starlight and with as much substance, but I liked to look upon it. I did not let myself think of the battle there would be with my family, the disgust from his. Or worse, the sense I have of the ever-present master I’ve just pledged myself to, watching and waiting to put me to his bidding. The many warnings Mam’s given of what happens to those who resist him, of what becomes of those we love. How he commanded the sea to swallow my father.

Just for that moment, I let myself believe in his stories.

‘And you’ll be a farmer,’ I said.

‘Yes, and you my wife and you shall milk the cows and bake the village bread in our oven.’

‘And on May Day we’ll dance together. And eat flawn.’

He said nothing, but kissed the top of my head.

This is how we stayed, until the birds broke their slumber and the sky spilled with rosy sunlight.

I yank the door open, feel rather than see my way to Annie’s mat, shake the soft mound of bedding that hides my sister.

‘Up,’ I say. ‘Up, get up, wake up.’

She wails in reply and burrows down like a mouse in hay. I laugh, kiss her cheek.

‘Sleepy,’ she says.

‘Come on. We’ve to search.’

Grumbling, Annie stands, fists clenched at sides, teeth bared, trying to growl, but I laugh and then so does she.

‘Stop that, little cub. You don’t scare me.’ I search, as always, peering into her ears, lifting her hair and examining the white gleam of skin below. She is unmarked. Of course. A light has entered our lives that changes everything. She will be there too, by the fireside Daniel and I will share.

I pull her warm, bony body to me, breathe in the woods from her hair, kiss her mud-crusted cheek.

‘Why do you keep smiling like that?’ she asks.

From First Light

The day had begun with Sarah in his arms and whispers of a life together. Daniel had worn a smile all day, unable to shake himself free of it as a heavy heat gathered under the grey sky and exhaustion dogged his steps, slowing him as he went about his tasks.

His fingers lost their grip on the plough, prompting curses and jeers from Gabriel. Daniel did not care. His feet slid from under him as he let out the horses and Bett was unimpressed with the grass stains left on his breeches.

‘You know I hate the stench when I’ve to soak the linen,’ she said.

‘You’re the heart of this family,’ he said, taking her in his arms and prancing around the kitchen until she screeched and laughed. ‘We’re nothing without you, Betts.’