‘This is His doing, I feel the truth of it.’ Seth speaks so fast in his excitement that his words smash into each other. ‘To bring together the sweetest young souls of the village and in doing so welcome a far-flung family back to the flock. And I am his instrument. I am chosen.’

He looks around at us, chest heaving, eyes bright with wonderment at this great revelation. Right now I truly believe every word he speaks. How can Mam oppose us when even God chooses us to be together?

‘You carry yourself away, Seth,’ Mam says.

He wags a finger at her. ‘No, no, no. Recently I am struck by the goodness, the very godliness, I find in the humble village folk, the honesty and integrity.’

Mam catches my eye, and I look away, refusing to acknowledge that we know this to be untrue.

‘This new magistrate brings a wave of morality and I am confident it is all we need for the village to welcome you, with warmth, without judgement.’ Seth presses his hands together, smiles at us all. ‘Young Gabriel, who works on Master Taylor’s farm, enquired just the other day whether we might see you in church. He seems to show a care for you in particular, Sarah, and we may perhaps entreat him to speak your case with the father.’

Such ignorance. ‘Oh nay, he of all—’ Annie tugs on my arm and turns a miserable face to me. I sigh. ‘Greed has got the better of you again, little cub.’

‘She has a hunger, poor thing,’ Seth says.

‘Sit her down still, I don’t want another tableful of her guts,’ Mam says.

Annie shuffles to a stool like an old woman, removes the clay figure from the seat and places it on the table with a thump before sitting. Exposing the true depths of Mam’s trade. I wonder if Seth is so sure of God’s choice now. He glances at the figure, looks puzzled.

‘A queer plaything. Yours, little one?’

Annie slumps forward, chin resting on the table, teeth clacking as she replies. ‘Nay, it’s Mammy’s, for burning and sticking pins to punish the netter.’

Silence. Seth swallows and looks from the table to Mam. I lean forward. The air is suddenly tight between us. He will withdraw his offer to intervene now, I know it.

‘It will surely be an advantage to you all that these two are united,’ he says. ‘To be accepted in the village again. To live by more fitting means. You will be protected.’

Mam says nothing, though I know as well as she there is no protection for us in the village any more.

Annie begins to whimper and gulp, and I lift her and run for the door, stepping through just before the buttermilk makes its reappearance.

The White River