I came to a well-polished bar, edged, to no surprise, in brass; copper mines must have featured heavily in the area. I stood between a man and woman who glanced at me regularly, though they tried to hide it, until I realised I had come unknowingly between them. I stepped away, to their obvious relief, and ignored the woman’s giggling. Silently I wished them well, whatever stage their courtship was in.

When my turn came, the woman behind the bar, who I took to be Mrs Lehner, gave me a broad smile and asked, ‘What’ll it be, love?’

I was briefly disarmed, and the young woman from before set to giggling again. ‘A room,’ I managed, forgetting my manners completely.

‘That’ll explain them bags,’ Mrs Lehner said. ‘Day, too?’

‘Please.’

‘My day-sister’s husband has the run of the place then, but that should be no bother. A meal before you go up?’

Tired as I was, I was considerably hungrier. I could have requested the meal sent to the room, but there was no better way to judge the mood of a village and its people than a full common room. Mrs Lehner disappeared momentarily to the kitchen, and then came to lead me upstairs. She was not a small woman and took the steps one at a time.

‘I am relieved to find a room available; you seem to be very busy,’ I said, simply to say something.

‘Oh, those are just my regulars. We don’t get too many travellers this way, not once summer’s over.’ As she made the top of the stairs, she set her apron right and dabbed her hairline, though I couldn’t see that she had a single hair out of place.

‘And the soldiers at the fort?’

‘Same really – come in for a drink when they can, but rarely go so far as to need a room. Here we are then,’ she said, opening a door that I had to duck through.

The room was large enough for my simple needs, with a writing desk, mirror and wash basin, and a wardrobe. Mrs Lehner named her rates, which were more than reasonable, and said the same would be the case for my day-brother. She asked how long we would be staying.

‘Hard to say. I have some business in the village.’

‘Well, wash up and such, and your plate’ll be ready when you come down.’

I made to thank her, but she was already closing the door. I hung my cloak on the back of the door and, rolling up my sleeves, washed my face and neck in the basin. The towels smelled faintly floral and though I couldn’t say which flower, it certainly wasn’t the ettiene that was in the window. This ettiene had lost its flowers, possibly from too much direct light, but its leaves were healthy enough. I plucked a few of them, assuming the plant was for the use of guests; my own supplies were not inexhaustible.

At the mirror I tried to make myself presentable, carefully brushing what hair I had left. The time would come when I could avoid a wig no longer and I would spend my remaining days scratching myself.