Grace stood inside the main doors for a moment, shaking the snow off her cape before making her way down the long corridor to Wilson ward.

There’s nothing to tell, she had said to Anna. But the truth was she didn’t want to talk about what had happened because she was afraid it would somehow make it more real.

Her father had insisted on Noah taking her back to the station in his cart that morning. He had been very solicitous of her, carefully arranging an old blanket around her shoulders to keep out the cold. Grace had held her breath and tried not to mind that it smelled of old, damp dog.

Noah was a lot more talkative on the way back to the station than he had been on the way to the farm. He pointed out the land he had harvested earlier that year, and told her about the yield he had had, and the new crops he was planning for the following year.

Grace had the distinct feeling he was trying to impress her, in his own way.

Finally, he said, ‘I think your mother’s spoken to you?’

‘Yes.’ Grace felt queasy, and not just because of the lurching of the wagon.

Noah sent her a sideways look. ‘What do you reckon?’

‘It was – a surprise.’

‘Ah. I suppose it might be, at that.’

He was silent for a while, then he said, ‘I’d make you a good husband. You’d want for nothing.’

Grace risked a glance at his craggy profile. ‘But we hardly know each other, Mr Wells.’

‘Noah.’ He gave a slight smile.

‘Noah.’ Even saying it felt wrong, like something sharp in her mouth.

‘I reckon we know each other well enough. And we’re both steady, sensible sorts, so we’d get along quite nicely, I think.’ He paused, then said, ‘You’d have a grand place to live. I’m thinking of doing up the farmhouse.’ He sent her another quick look. ‘You’d have a say, mind. I’d put you in charge of all the alterations, so you could get it just how you wanted it. Even indoor plumbing, if that’s what you’d like.’

‘Thank you,’ Grace looked down at her hands.

Noah grunted. ‘I know women are fussy about these things. And I’d want you to feel like it was your home as well as mine.’

The silence stretched between them again until at last the rail halt for the village came into sight.

Grace could hardly scramble off the cart quick enough. As she was gathering her belongings from the back of the wagon, Noah said, ‘You just have a think about it anyway. Take your time, I’m in no hurry. You know what it’s like, things move slowly down here.’

He leaned forward and Grace realised with horror that he was trying to give her a little peck on the cheek, but she had ducked out of the way just in time.

The train was overcrowded again, but this time Grace scarcely noticed. She didn’t even bother to clear a patch on the steamy glass so she could catch a last, lingering look at the countryside. Instead she sat upright, staring at the sagging net of the luggage rack opposite, still trying to take in the events of the past two days.