I gave him the date and place. If he was surprised to hear that the place was White Swan Yard, he made no sign. As it happened, I knew the time: six o’clock in the morning. My adoptive mother, Virginia Hood, had given me every detail as soon as she thought I was old enough to understand.

*   *   *

Gertrude lay on the chaise longue staring at the ceiling, a wet flannel on her brow. The air smelled of vinegar.

“Gertrude?”

She peered from under the flannel. “Oh Kate, I wondered where you’d got to.”

“Can I get you anything?”

She lifted the flannel. “This helps.”

“Let me.” I took the flannel from her, refreshed it in the basin of cold water and vinegar, and squeezed it. “Lie still a little longer. Is it a headache?” She let me place the cloth across her forehead and temples.

“More than a headache, but talk to me. Tell me what you’ve been up to, and don’t talk about going yet.”

“Well I have all the photographs I need for my assignment, so the time is ours. And I’ve brought you your portrait, but you can see it later.”

“I’ll look now!” She raised herself up and lifted the flannel.

I held out the portrait of her and Benjie. “Oh Kate, that is lovely. How did you make such a big photograph?”

“By magic. And here’s another of you with your bonny piebald.”

“Isn’t he gorgeous?” The flannel dropped to the floor as she held the picture at arms’ length. “We’ve been shocking hosts, only it’s been a difficult time. And now we have a funeral tomorrow.”

“Ah, poor Mrs. Farrar.”

“How did you know?”

“I saw my dad. He told me that the vicar is back and that the coroner gave permission for the body to be released.”

“It should be a solemn time, but it’s become a farce.”

“What do you mean?”

“Word spread that the murderer has been charged. Your Milly and that girl they call Joan of Arc have stirred up women and girls from the mill. They’re off to Wakefield, to make mischief.”

I almost said “Again?” but stopped myself just in time.

“Do sit down, Kate, you’re making me nervous.” She sighed. “The aspirins are beginning to work. Perhaps a cup of coffee.”

I crossed to the fireplace and rang the bell. “What brought on your headache? If you were cutting the workers’ hours, does it matter that the women and girls will take time off to go to Wakefield?”

“There’s an order arrived at the mill for blankets. It’s exactly what we needed to keep afloat. Benjie has done one of his disappearing tricks, so the manager comes to me. If the women walk out, we’ll miss the delivery date.”

“No wonder you have a headache.”