“She burned her hand, I think.” There was a red rectangle on the toddler’s palm. “Is it hot? Does it burn, sweetie?”

Leonie bawled and the tears came down, those not wiped away by Ruby disappearing into her collar. If there had been sound, it would have been deafening. Mouth wide open, teeth bared, she nodded her head in slow motion, yes, it’s hot, it hurts.

Ruby said, “I’m so stupid—I should have known. She’s never seen a stove; she won’t have known it could hurt her. I’m sorry, lovely, it’s okay.”

Between sobs, Leonie whispered, “Mamma? Where Mamma? Want Mamma.” She took a deep breath and screwed up her face, shaking with the force of the soundless cry.

“I know,” said Ruby, stroking her back. “I know.” And her heart was breaking then, for although she loved Leonie like she was her own child, to Leonie, Constance was irreplaceable. And she wasn’t here.

“What’s she doing? Why isn’t she making any noise?” Sam frowned in confusion.

“Can you get some cold water?”

He filled the washing-up bowl from the tap and brought it over, but Leonie’s hand stayed rigid, arm outstretched, and she couldn’t be persuaded to bend it at the elbow. Ruby picked her up bodily and dunked the hand in, held it there. When she instinctively took it out again, Ruby grabbed it and forced it in.

“I’m sorry, sweetie, but this will help to cool it down.”

The girl just cried and cried, her face a mask of pain and terror, and all without any noise at all but a high squeak, air being let out from a balloon.

Sam was wringing his hands and shifting from foot to foot, causing the boat to rock slightly “What’s wrong with her voice, Ruby? Should we take her to the hospital?”

She looked at him. He saw her hesitate, and frowned. If Leonie was badly burned, then they wouldn’t have a choice, of course, but the hospital would need names, addresses, background checks. And then, when they didn’t find Leonie on the system … it was too risky. Ruby brought the child’s hand out of the bowl. It was a little pink now, but there was no blistering. Tentatively, she touched the top of the stove with her own finger. Hot, but not burning. Perhaps they wouldn’t need to go.

“That’s just how she cries. I don’t know why. She’s always been like that.”

“But she talks fine. She screams silently.”

Ruby felt shame for what she was about to say, even though she had nothing to do with it. When she’d first met Leonie, she never cried. It was many weeks before she realized what happened when she did.

“I don’t think there’s anything physically wrong. I think it’s learned behavior.”

“Learned how?”

“I—oh, she’s fine now, look at her.”