‘Sochla,’ put in my mother, rescuing me, ‘you can’t imagine Oran would choose a woman who loved blood sports. This is a soft-hearted young lady who enjoys music and poetry. Did you not see the portrait that so took my son’s fancy?’

‘Ah! The lap dog, how could I forget? And has Flidais brought her little treasure all the way from Laigin?’

My mother suppressed what might have been a snort of derision. Sisters they might be, and in agreement on many matters, but each was strong-willed and over the years of my growing up I had witnessed some monumental disputes.

‘She brought her dog, yes.’ I hesitated. ‘But she’s been having difficulties with Bramble since the unfortunate episode at Dreamer’s Pool. Snarling, snapping, a refusal to obey. It’s become intolerable for Flidais to have her close by.’

Aunt Sochla’s brows went up. ‘That does surprise me. I’ve never yet encountered a dog that could not be trained out of bad habits, even under the most challenging of circumstances. Where is the creature?’

‘Sochla,’ murmured my mother, ‘now is not the time for this.’

‘Tomorrow,’ said my aunt. ‘Have the dog brought to me in the morning, Oran. I’ll set it to rights.’

‘Thank you, Aunt,’ I said. ‘If you can spare the time, your help will be most welcome.’ I did not mention that, with me, Bramble was perfectly well behaved. Or that the little dog had become a favourite with all who worked in my kitchen. That would be to imply that the fault lay with Flidais.

‘I don’t suppose there’ll be a great deal for me to do as a chaperone,’ Aunt Sochla said, ‘since you are surely old enough to know how to behave. So you may as well make use of my services with the dog. The terriers I breed are much sought after as companions for ladies, largely because of their sweet temperament.’

‘Thank you, Aunt.’ It was true, Aunt Sochla’s residence was generally swarming with little dogs, and I could not remember any of them snapping, barking or leaving puddles in inconvenient spots. ‘Bramble is not to be taken outdoors without a leash. She’s been lost on the farm once already, and of course there are bigger dogs –’

‘Oran, don’t fuss. I know what I am doing. Tomorrow, after breakfast.’

‘Yes, Aunt.’ I might have been ten years old again, and receiving a reprimand for daydreaming.

‘Flidais is so like her portrait.’ Mother patted my hand, adding to my feelings of inadequacy. ‘I’m becoming convinced that you have made a wise choice, Oran.’