‘It’s always better to grab the vixen by the tail and broker a peace,’ explained Fodder. ‘The Winter is all about ensuring the most favourable outcome is enjoyed by the majority – but in a good way, of course.’

‘You could have given me up.’

He turned to look at me.

‘No,’ he said, ‘we don’t do that. You’re young and you’re new and confused and need all the help you can get.’

I couldn’t deny it; I think he’d summed me up pretty well.

‘I’m in your debt,’ I said, ‘but you’re going to bear and then give up your child – to Villains. Are you okay with that?’

‘I’m sixth-generation Pool,’ said Fodder. ‘My people haven’t known their biologicals for over two centuries. Villains are hideously class-conscious and English to boot, but good parents – my child will improve the health of their dynasty for generations. The truce gets to hold, and you don’t get to work in the scullery. It’s the Code of the Winter.’

Fodder had my back. It was a good feeling, but carried with it an awesome responsibility. In time, I would have to risk everything for another, and so on, down an unbroken chain of Winter camaraderie for centuries to come, as had been the case for centuries before us. In that moment, I realised what being a Winter Consul was all about, and I knew then that I’d never want to be anything else.

We drove on in silence for a few minutes.

‘Does anyone else know?’ I asked.

‘No one around here, and you’re not going to tell. I’ll take two years’ leave of absence until she’s born. Money will be short but, well, heigh-ho.’

There was another pause.

‘Can I ask why?’

‘Why what?’

‘Why you’re something you’re not.’

‘We’re all something we’re not,’ he said. ‘Every one of us is stuck between the person we want to be and the person we can be. And there doesn’t have to be a why. All things have to do is feel right.’

‘I understand,’ I said, ‘and thank you.’

He didn’t need to tell me to keep his secret. I’d carry it to the grave. I spent the rest of the journey thinking about the Farnesworths’ incredulous expressions as they gazed upon Fodder’s naked body, there in the snow and the sun: bold, muscular, athletic, Snowdonian in stature and physically at variance with the gender with which he felt most at home – but with the rare and highly desirable tiger stripes picked out in auburn on his blond winterdown.

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