‘Mistress Dickson, I was expecting you,’ he called. ‘Come for the Baxters’ usual. I tell you what: I have a nice new blend here that Mr Baxter might like. Shall I put some in a bag for him to try? You too? Here, put your grocery basket down on the counter – you look worn out.’

I nodded as he busied himself with measuring out the leaves. My sicky feeling came back and my head pounded. The smoky smells of the tea leaves were overpowering. Worst of all, I felt a fluttering inside me. Like a moth batting at a window. It was the baby stirring.

‘Is everything all right, Mistress Dickson?’ The tea-seller looked worried.

‘I just need a chair for a moment or two,’ I replied, sounding weak.

He put me in his chair and brought me a draught of something in a cup and handed it to me, watching me carefully.

‘Now you drink this, Mistress Dickson, and it will perk you up a bit. You look a bit off-colour, if you don’t mind me saying so. Is anything the matter?’

‘Not at all,’ I lied. ‘I think I’ve been working a bit too hard, that’s all.’

He frowned. He did not look like he believed me, but he didn’t ask any more questions. I sipped the draught he had given me. He went back to his shelves and let me sit for a while. Slowly my sense of normality returned. The sicky feeling subsided and my heart calmed down.

‘I’m all right now,’ I told him. ‘I’d best take my tea and get back to the inn.’

‘Well, if you’re sure,’ he said, surveying me a little. He was a small man, with three or four days of grey bristle spreading from his cheeks down his neck, but otherwise was neatly turned out in a dark tunic and breeches. I imagined, if I got close enough, his bristle would smell of tea leaves – of the box Da kept under our bed.

I stood up. ‘I’m sure I am well again,’ I replied, and he bade me goodbye.

Had he guessed I was in the family way? He was a purveyor of many exotic goods, and I wondered if he sold women’s tonics or drinks to help with the morning sickness and knew exactly what a woman looked like when she was pregnant.

I could not have anyone guessing. I took a deep breath and stood on the doorstep, looking onto the market. The sky was low with cloud, and a spring rain was just hanging off, which gave everything an air of urgency. Folks were piled with parcels or carrying sacks over their shoulders. A boy who’d been peeing earnestly a few minutes earlier was now playing with a stick at the side of the road, wielding it like a sword.