‘Well, I’m glad you weren’t born a lad.’ Ethan looked at the lass with her long blonde hair, which was whipping over her face in the slight breeze of the fellside, and felt a flutter within him that he’d not experienced before. ‘Could I come with you on your walks?’ Unlike Jane, Rosie had the same love of the natural world around her as he felt. She respected nature and the people in her life, and he in turn respected her for that.

Rosie blushed as she realized what Ethan had said. She enjoyed his company too, his easy ways with animals and his knowledge of plants and flowers. She looked across at him. He was handsome in his corduroy breeches, striped shirt and tight-fitting waistcoat. His curly dark hair matched his almost black eyes, which looked at her, waiting with anticipation for her answer.

‘I’d like that – I’d like that a lot.’ Rosie grinned. ‘Father and Grandfather are always away at the market on a Tuesday, so let’s make Tuesday afternoon our time together and not tell anyone.’

‘That would suit me; we get on so well and I enjoy your company.’ Ethan smiled, showing his perfectly white teeth to Rosie.

‘Good, that’s a deal. Let’s meet at the end of the wood, and then no one will see us. I don’t think my mother would be happy with me mixing with the new stable lad,’ Rosie whispered.

‘You mean it would be the gypsy part of me that she wouldn’t want you to mix with. But she should know that my mother and father are both respectable, and that my father doesn’t wander the lanes and roads like his own father did.’ Ethan bowed his head.

‘Have you ever met your grandfather?’ Rosie asked quietly.

‘Nay, never. My father said he left my grandmother expecting him, and only came back once in a while when he was a lad. He must be a good age now. He’s probably dead in a ditch somewhere – best spot for him. Although I’m curious to see how his sort live. I’ve always fancied going to Appleby Fair, but my father won’t hear of it; he says he wants nowt with them ways. But whether he likes it or not, he takes after his father, for nobody can handle a horse like my father, or judge a person just by looking at them – he sometimes knows what I’m thinking better than I do myself.’ Ethan looked out over the Dales and pulled at a stalk of fell grass, putting the stalk in his mouth to chew on, as he thought about his lost family and the yearly horse fair at Appleby, which all Romany gypsies attended in order to meet up with their families.