Esther ignored her. Ivan watched as she hurried past him on her way to the back hall, his face unreadable. She knew the back door was not locked; Mary and she had been able to walk out and in again with the ashes. Esther lifted the latch and pulled the door inward. It was heavy, its lower edge scraping on the stone floor.

Cool air met her on the threshold. She glanced back over her shoulder. Through the door to the kitchen, she could see Ivan, still sitting, still watching. She stepped out into the yard, her soles clicking and scraping on the rough concrete, and felt chilled drops of rain on her skin. The sky had greyed, the world blanketed in a dim stillness. Chickens pecked at scattered grain all around, and their silence disturbed Esther. Where had all the noise gone? Drowned in the rushing river in her ears, she realised, and she swallowed as if that might clear them.

She looked around the yard, flanked by stone outbuildings and barns. The cowshed directly in front of her. The gaps between the buildings had been sealed by wire and wooden fencing, some constructed with care, some crude and cobbled together. She walked deeper into the yard, turning in circles. Two cows stood in one of the outbuildings to the side, what might have been stables. Esther remembered the taste of warm, creamy milk, and she felt bile rise in her throat.

Where to run?

The only way she could see was the gate to the rear of the yard, held closed by a length of twine looped around a hook on the wall of the stable block. She crossed the yard to it, casting glances back towards the house as she went. Dark inside the back hall, the kitchen invisible beyond, but she knew Ivan watched her. She could feel his eyes on her back as sure as she could feel the ground beneath her feet.

Esther reached for the twine that bound the gate closed. She picked at the knot around the hook, but it would not be undone. Cursing, she placed her right foot on one of the gate’s horizontal bars, her hands gripping the top, the knife handle pressed between her palm and the metal. She hoisted herself up and threw her left leg over, her foot finding purchase on the other side. Holding tight to the top bar, she slid her body over, the blade inches from her nose. As her weight carried her across, her left foot slipped, and she tumbled, her arms flailing. The ground rushed up to meet her, where the concrete crumbled into earth. Her shoulder rammed into a mix of mud and jagged stones, her hip hitting the concrete hard. She rolled away from the gate, crying out in pain and anger.