‘One way and another.’ He grins.

‘You know what was the weirdest thing about everything that happened? Seeing myself … like that.’ She had spent some time explaining to Dylan in detail what she had seen while wearing the bracelet. However crazy it sounded, he had listened. He had believed her. And that meant a lot. ‘I looked like me, but, well I was so different too. Those weird clothes, the knife…’

‘Don’t forget the tattoos. Perhaps it was your fantasy self, you know, the way you’d secretly like to present yourself to the world.’

‘I have never in my life wanted a tattoo. But, wait a minute! Why didn’t I think of that sooner? I’ve seen her … me … like that before. The woman in the boat!’

Dylan does his best to keep up. ‘Sorry, what boat?’

‘I haven’t told you? No, why would I have.’ She takes a breath, trying not to trip over her words in her eagerness to clarify the point, to herself as much as to him. ‘The day I met your uncle, just before I bumped into him on the footpath, I’d had a … a vision. I saw this woman, in a boat, with two men. She was someone ancient, from a different time.’

‘And scary, like the ghost from the dig?’

‘No.’ She shakes her head. ‘She wasn’t … isn’t frightening. She’s not threatening. With her it’s different, somehow. But I know she is who I saw here, this time. Thing is, she looked so like me, perhaps it wasn’t a ghost. Maybe I was seeing, I don’t know, another version of myself, in another time?’

‘Are we talking reincarnation here?’ Dylan looks uncertain.

‘No. At least, I don’t think so. To be honest, the more I think about it, the less sense any of it makes.’

From the open studio door comes the sound of the telephone ringing. Tilda knows before she lifts the handset, which is gritty with clay dust undisturbed by use, that it will be her father. Her postcard might have held her parents off for a few days, but they were worried about her.

‘Is your mountain very snowy, Little Rabbit?’ her father asks.

‘It is. The whole valley is thick with it too. It’s very beautiful.’

‘Are the roads clear? Less than a week until Christmas. Your mother and I thought we might bring it to you this year. Turkey, mince pies, mulled wine, crackers, appalling jumper, carols on tape, DVD of The Sound of Music, the whole festive circus delivered to your door.’

‘Oh, Dad…’

‘It’d be no trouble. Truth is, your mother feels the need for a bit of clucking around her only daughter.’ He pauses, then adds, ‘We got rather used to having you here.’