‘No, actually. That’s a linocut. But it’s a similar process. Look—’ Edie said, her equilibrium finally beginning to return. ‘Thank you. For putting out the fire.’

Gilly shrugged, her gaze still fixed on the image of the lighthouse.

Something occurred to Edie. ‘How did you – how did you see it? Where were you?’

The girl stopped her examination. She stood very still. After a moment she turned around. ‘I was just walking past the gate. Saw the light, then…’ She pulled one hand out of one pocket, indicated the flickering of flames.

Edie nodded. ‘It’s late,’ she observed. ‘Where were you going?’

The girl’s face took on a guarded look. ‘Why?’

‘Rachel – that’s the woman who runs the bookshop, you know her, don’t you? Rachel thinks you’re homeless.’

The girl made a scoffing sound. She was looking at the wooden block beneath the light again. Or perhaps at the thin, sharp blades of Edie’s tools lying beside it.

‘Sorry,’ Edie said, nerves jangling. ‘It’s none of my business.’

There was another moment of silence. Then the girl looked up at her. ‘How thankful are you?’

Edie blinked. ‘What do you mean?’

‘For my help. How thankful are you?’

In the next second Edie was scrambling for her bag. ‘You can have what’s in my wallet. It won’t be much, but—’

The girl made that sound again, dismissive, disgusted. ‘I don’t want your money. Why is it that everyone always assumes that’s what I want? I’ve got money. I don’t need your crappy little pension.’

Edie stopped searching for her purse and looked at Gilly – unwashed, unkempt, uncared for – and knew this to be a flat lie.

‘What do you want, then?’

Gilly turned away to look at the lighthouse on the wall. For one insane moment Edie thought she was going to ask for the picture, frame and all.

‘I want you to show me how to do that,’ the girl said instead, raising one hand to stab a finger at the image.

It took Edie a moment to understand what she was saying, and when she did, she could not keep the incredulity from her voice. ‘You… want to learn how to make a print?’

Gilly turned to look at her, defiance in the scowl that creased her brow. ‘What’s so weird about that?’

Edie shook her head slightly and then lied. ‘Nothing.’

‘Right. So. Will you? I can come here every day. And you can teach me. To say thank you for saving…’ she glanced around the room, ‘everything.’

Edie did not want to say yes. She did not want this person anywhere near her, and certainly not in her home. But Gilly was right. Edie did owe her. She could lock the door between the print room and the rest of the house, and in any case Gilly would probably get tired of the lessons soon enough. Give it a week and she’d vanish again, and Edie could rub Ezra’s face in her efforts to give her a chance.