I’m used to being treated like I’m nothing, so I keep my mouth shut and get on with the job. Branoc – a foreigner, I’m guessing, not only from his name but from the way he talks – watches me for a while, not offering to help. After a bit he wanders off to do something across the yard, and I keep carrying one sack after another into the barn. It’s a lot of flour. With luck it’ll be a while before I need to come back.

I finish off, making sure the sacks are lined up straight, grabbing a broom to tidy up after myself. Don’t want any fuss about the payment, which I’m supposed to collect for Scannal. While I’m doing this I hear a few noises from upstairs, clunks and scrapes, and when Branoc comes back over I say, trying to be friendly, ‘Should bring you a cat next time.’

He gives me a narrow-eyed look. ‘A cat? Why would you do this?’

‘You got rats up there. Heard them running around. Big store of flour, you wouldn’t want it spoiled.’

‘Your work is finished, yes?’

‘Mm-hm.’ I get myself out of the barn. I’ve annoyed him, not sure why. But some men don’t need a reason to get angry. I know that better than most. ‘I’ll be on my way, then.’ I fiddle with the horses’ harness, waiting for him to give me the money. All he does is shut the barn door and shove the bolts across. ‘Scannal asked me to collect his payment,’ I say when he’s done it.

He stomps off to the house. I hope he’s fetching what’s due. While he’s away I get the horses and cart all ready to go. Hoping I won’t have to hammer on the fellow’s door and demand the money. Hoping I won’t get into a fight. Thinking about Blackthorn and the cottage and the garden, and knowing I can’t get angry or I might lose everything.

Turns out all right. Branoc comes striding back from the house and gives me a bag of coppers. The weight tells me it’s more or less the right amount, but I shake the coins out and count them anyway. Then I get up on the cart and head off, knowing he’s going to watch me all the way down the hill, making sure I’m gone. Though why I’d be wanting to hang around I can’t imagine.

Down on the shore I get out the bread and cheese I’ve brought and when Storm and Sturdy have had a drink I give them their oats. We eat. I look out over the lake. If I lived in such a pretty spot I wouldn’t be bad-tempered like this baker. I’d be getting on with my work and thinking how lucky I was.

Horses make light work of the trip back. I drop the cart at Scannal’s and give him the payment, and he gives me my share and the half-bag of flour.