He waves back, his arm whirling like a wing. I know what he’s going to say. Ginger Meggie cross your leggie. Laughing like it’s the funniest thing. He adores Kitta, Brukie’s Sandy does, he always calls her Pretty Kitty. He gazes on her like she is some beautiful sea creature, something better than a human girl.

But a puzzlement is on his face. Pretty Kitty look sad, Ginger Meggie.

Sad? An’ how would ye know that, Brukie’s Sandy, when Kitta is far away across the other side of Gadlehead?

But he shakes his head and is off and away to the Lily Maud.

All the way home I am wondering what it is has put Kitta in Brukie’s Sandy’s head. I should have guessed.

The door is closed but voices leak from inside. One of them is Kitta’s! But my joy quickly drains away. Kitta home? Without a message to say she is coming? Whatever it is that’s happening, this I know: a kitchen quine home without being sent for is a kitchen quine who has been returned in disgrace.

I ease the door open a wee crack, peek through quietly, but Granda has the lugs of a loon, so he always tells us.

An’ ye can get yourself inside, quinie, or I’ll have words for your sorry self an’ all!

I sidle in and look from one to the next. Granda, his face as scarlet as the comb on a bubblyjock. Ma, upset but tight-faced. Unty Jinna by the window, keeping a wary watch for anyone passing by. And Kitta, my Kitta, still in her hat-for-best and travelling apron, fearless as always but the colour of bleached calico. I reach out my hand, but Ma is firm. Not now, Meggie.

My eyes are drawn to the fire. There, squat and bulky on the hearthrug, is the new kist Kitta had taken with her to Rowescroft House. That’s when I know for sure that she will not be going back.

~

No-one would tell me what it was Kitta had done. Ma said I must pay mind to my own sins and leave others to theirs, which just made the worry worse. What sins?

When I asked Kitta, she told me she had done nothing, and since she had done nothing there was nothing more she wished to say on the matter. So there, Ginger Meggie. I wanted to shake her until all the secrets came spilling out, but she could be as stubborn as Granda Jeemsie when she felt herself slighted, and it seemed the whole village had taken to the task of slighting my sister. I couldn’t really blame her for feeling set-upon.

There were rumours going about, each one worse than the one before.

Kitta was lazy at her work.

She had torn a linen shirt.

She had allowed a joint of meat to burn.

She had stolen a silver thimble.