‘Alright, we’ll be away. But I’m going to return because somebody somewhere will know my grandfather.’ Ethan looked disappointed, but knew Rosie was right: if they didn’t go back now, they would miss their train home. He looked back at the campsites they were leaving behind and vowed to visit them again on his own, for this was a life he could enjoy.

Rosie sat quietly, lost in her own thoughts as she watched the scenery pass by her outside the train carriage. Her hair and clothes smelt of the camp fires they had wandered amongst, in their pursuit of an elusive grandfather whom both of them knew they would never find. Her skirt and boots were covered with mud from the churned-up field at Gallows Hill. She knew she looked a mess, and she only hoped she could change and wash before her parents returned home. With every clatter of the railway line beneath her she wished she was home, safe and sound. She cast her mind back over the day, at the horses being put through their paces, and the beggars selling whatever produce they could; the smell of rabbit stew drifting on the wind, and the brightness of the painted wagons that were home to the wandering gypsies. It was a completely different way of life from hers and a different language. She had not understood a word that some of them had spoken, and had felt as if she was an outsider in her own world.

Ethan sat across from her, half-asleep, content that he’d visited the legendary Appleby Fair and unconcerned that his presence might be missed at home – unlike Rosie. With every mile they were nearer home she felt sick at the thought of having to explain her disappearance, if her parents had already returned to Crummock. She’d not thought of the consequences of her trip; but now, with hindsight, her mother was going to be frantic, whereas Ethan had no one to answer to. He’d not lied to his parents, he just hadn’t gone to visit them, and he’d not spent every penny that he had. The sixpence he said he had in his pocket had remained there all day and they were both going home hungry, filthy and tired. Rosie wondered if Ethan had any money on him at all, for they had drunk from a spring that fed the River Eden, rather than Ethan spending his elusive sixpence. How she wished she had not been so easily led. It was her fault; after all, it had been her idea and she had no one else to blame.

‘She’s not in her room. Where is she, Danny?’ Harriet came rushing down the stairs, frantic with worry.