‘I saw Mother and Father at Mass,’ Lisa said. ‘The boys and girls stayed at home to mind Grandpa.’

Marion asked how he was.

‘He seems the same. They’ve kept him well wrapped up during the snow, in his chair, in a feathery quilt – and he doesn’t seem to have taken cold or anything. He talks about things long ago, and he doesn’t seem to remember the Christmas feast – and that’s barely five weeks ago. But if one of us mentions it, he tells about the famine again. It is strange he is so well. Poor old Marge, though, she must have died of cold. It’s a wonder Agnes did not miss her sooner. They say in the village that Hal is poorly. They don’t think he’ll last long and M’Dame allows Hilda to go and be with him. She wasn’t at Mass so I suppose she was with her father. M’Dame was there. She must be very near her time by now. Sir Hugh and Rollo were supporting her, one each side, up to the church for fear of her slipping on the slushy snow – and that reminds me … ’ Lisa pushed her cloak aside, and put her hand into the leather pouch slung round her neck and pulled out a small pair of pointed shears.

‘We found these on top of the beam across our cottage,’ she said. ‘I think Dick must have put them there to be safely out of the children’s reach. Well, as you know he was tall and could easily get them, but I suppose when Hilda moved out she forgot or did not know they were there.’

‘Or was too miserable with Dick’s death to care,’ added Marion.

‘Yes, I suspect she was. Anyway, Martin rubbed them down and sharpened both blades and points on his finest whetstone, and I was going to give them to Hilda today only she wasn’t there, and I didn’t want to give them to Joan or Milly – you’d never know what’d happen to them. I think he used these with the pointed ends for castrating the baby rams. The thing is, would you like to use them for your nails and I’ll give them to Hilda when I go down to the Hall next? How are your feet now?’

Marion pulled her feet out from the boats of loose wrappings which helped to protect them, and displayed red and swollen toes, some with raw places on them.

‘They are healing,’ she said, ‘but they are still very sore. I think it would help if the nails were cut, but it hurts so when Peter binds them up, I don’t know how I could bear it if I cut the nails.’

‘I’ll try, Aunt,’ Lisa said, and she knelt down and very tenderly, and in spite of Marion’s yelps of pain, cut all her toenails as short as possible. Alice stumped up and watched with solemn interest. Marion admitted that her feet felt better, so Lisa offered to do her hands as well, and her cracked and broken nails were trimmed. Peterkin rolled out of the straw where he had been idling and Lisa and Marion spent some time on his feet, specially the twisted one with a nail growing into the sole. Peterkin ooh’d and i-i-i’d but also agreed it was more comfortable to walk after.