‘Shouldn’t swear either, and all of us do,’ I replied unrepentant. ‘Now you go to bed, Dandy. We’ve another three shows to do tomorrow, you’ll be tired out.’

She yawned and stretched herself. ‘I will,’ she said. ‘You coming?’

I shook my head, though I ached for sleep. ‘I’ve got to clean the harness,’ I said. ‘It’s getting too dirty. I’ll not be long.’

She went without a backward glance, and when I came to the wagon two hours later she and Katie were fast asleep; Dandy on her back, her hair a rumpled black mass on the pillow.

I crept into my own bunk and gathered the blankets around my shoulders in their comforting warmth. But as soon as I shut my eyes I started dreaming again. I would dream I was the red-headed girl and the land was turning against me. I would watch the fields grow ripe and yet know an absolute fear of loss clutch cold at me. I would dream I was the woman who had been out in the storm and I would ache for the loss of the baby whose name was Sarah. Then I would hear her anguished call, and sometimes I would sit bolt upright in my bed, cracking my forehead on the roof of the wagon, as if I were trying to answer her.

In the morning I would be heavy-eyed and pasty-faced. But still there would be the horses to train and the ponies to work. The hay and the water to take around, the tack to be checked, and every single one of the twelve animals to wash and groom.

Rea helped. But Robert was training him for rosinback riding and he was tired and bruised from his falls. Jack helped. But he was training on the trapeze and helping Rea learn to stand. Most of the work fell to me. I could not ask Katie for help; she was afraid of Snow and Sea and would only groom the little ponies. I would not ask Dandy. I always wanted her to rest.