‘Lisbet? Is it really you?’ Ida’s hair is loose, and her forehead bruised from where her husband dragged her. ‘I thought I heard your voice, and thought I was asleep and dreaming. Oh, Bet!’ She reaches her hand out and Lisbet shoves her own under the door, sleeve catching on the decaying wood.

They clutch each other, and Ida comes as close to the door as she can, mirroring Lisbet’s pose so they lie face to face. Ida’s breath is rank, and huge hollows are pressed under her eyes. But she wears no manacles, and aside from the bruise seems unharmed.

‘How did you get in?’ Fear clouds her eyes. ‘Does my husband know you are here?’

‘No,’ says Lisbet, to soothe her, though in truth she had not given a single thought to Plater’s whereabouts. ‘We’re safe.’

Ida sobs out a laugh.

‘You know what I mean,’ says Lisbet. ‘We won’t be disturbed.’

‘Oh, Bet.’ Ida searches Lisbet’s face, moves closer so their noses are almost touching. ‘I am glad you’re here. Where are the children?’

‘With Mathias, at our farm,’ she says.

‘They are fine,’ adds Sophey briskly. ‘Your Ilse takes great care over Rolf.’

‘Is that you, Sophey?’

‘Of course.’

‘Thank you for coming.’

‘Of course.’ Sophey’s voice is hoarse.

‘Ilse is like a tiny mother.’ Ida is crying, but she is smiling too. ‘She will be able to help you, when your child comes.’

‘Hush,’ says Lisbet. ‘You will help me.’

‘Do you not know? That I am to be—’

‘Please.’ Tears close up Lisbet’s throat, and she swallows them down. ‘We will find a way through this.’

Ida’s laugh is soft, and so cherished Lisbet could howl and claw at her clothes like the woman outside the gates. ‘Listen to me. You must keep yourself safe. You should not be down here, lying in the dirt.’

‘There is nowhere else I would be.’

Ida squeezes her hand tighter, and Lisbet closes her eyes. They could be on the dance tree platform at night, safe and held within its branches. They lie in silence, breathing in time. Then Ida speaks.

‘Make sure my father does not come to see.’ Lisbet goes to interrupt, but Ida fixes her with a stern glare. ‘Not my father, not my children. Not you.’

‘I am going nowhere,’ she says, but Ida continues as though she has not spoken.

‘Nethe is still not found?’

‘No.’

‘Then she is safe,’ says Ida. ‘If she is safe, it is not for naught.’

‘They cannot do this.’ At last, Lisbet’s voice breaks. ‘I will not let them.’

‘I’m not frightened,’ says Ida.

‘There must be something we can do.’

‘You know there is not. All I can do is go bravely. All you can do is go on. You go on, and you must be happy, Bet. If you can live and happily, you have beaten them.’ She gives another high, short laugh. Lisbet knows she is lying. She is deathly afraid. ‘I have never met a more unhappy man than my husband. He and I loved the same woman, and only one of us was loved in return. He has never been anything to anyone. He has never been anything at all and that is what makes him cruel. Because then at least he has cruelty as his kin. I had three years of joy, and it is more than most get. It will have to be enough.’ She grips her hand so tight it hurts, but Lisbet would not draw away for anything. ‘You can have the rest of your life, you and your child. Bring him safe into the world.’