Her brother had always told her never to trust Efa. They needed her, yes, but Nefyn should never talk to her. Never confide in her. Never let her in. And they had argued, Joseph and Nefyn. Nefyn had always sensed Efa’s loyalty, the attentions that would have petered out over the years if they had not been genuine. The slights and continued exclusion that Efa had endured should have given her ample excuse to desist, but Joseph was adamant.

Nefyn had watched Efa too, from afar. Followed her back from a distance in the summer when she came on foot, just to the outskirts of the village. Sat in the zinc shed by the front door looking out through the cracks in the panels, so she could get a closer look at her face, her clothes. Watched as she knocked and patiently waited, a certain expectation in her face that Nefyn had grown to feel sorry for.

Now Nefyn listened to her sweep the glass, her footsteps getting fainter as they moved towards the front door. Nefyn thought that she might leave, strained to hear, but then she was back again, standing in the middle of the living room, her hands clasped together. Pale face, a restlessness.

‘Nefyn? Are you there? I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.’

Efa stood waiting for an answer.

‘Please, Nefyn? I worry about you.’

She started walking towards the kitchen. Nefyn’s heart leapt.

‘Stop,’ she said instinctively. ‘I’m all right.’

Efa stopped, Nefyn’s voice startling her.

‘Are you sure?’

Nefyn edged forward a little. Forcing herself to move. It was the only way to get rid of her. She inched her foot forward, pushed herself to lean until she stepped into the doorway, the light finding the redder shades in her hair. Efa gasped. Drank her in, like someone who had thirsted for a long time. She hadn’t seen her face properly in so long, only her back, her hair. Glimpses. Efa smiled softly, Nefyn’s face a reward in itself.

‘It’s like looking at your mother,’ she said under her breath. Her eyes wandered, until she registered Nefyn’s discomfort. She looked away, not wanting to cause her pain. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘I can see you’re well.’ She moved to turn before looking up at her again as if knowing that this might be her only opportunity. ‘I want you to know that coming to look after you is not … work for me …’ She frowned. She shook her head, tilted it to make the words fall into place. ‘That I have been glad to be a help.’

Nefyn noticed that her fingers wound around her coat buttons.