‘The food was great,’ she says, aware she is talking to fill any possible silences. ‘And your uncle is so sweet. He’s been such a help.’

‘You saved us from a sad bachelor Christmas.’

‘Thank you for the clock, what you did. Thank you for … everything. Putting up with all the weird stuff. Listening to me going on and on about ghosts and witches and heaven knows what…’

‘Hey, I want to spend time with you, Tilda. I want to be with you.’ He pushes her hair back off her face. ‘But I know things have been tough for you. I don’t want you to feel … pressured.’

‘I don’t. Oh, look, let’s just get into bed, shall we? It’s bloody freezing up here.’

Laughing, they dive beneath the duvet, holding each other close. Thistle comes to the side of the bed, sniffs, and turns away grumpily.

‘Oh dear,’ says Dylan, ‘she’s really going to hate me now.’

‘She’s gone back to the kitchen. It’s warmer in there. She’ll be fine.’

‘And what about you?’ he asks. ‘Are you fine?’

She hesitates. At this moment, his arms enfolding her, safe and snug, still comforted by the kindness of the professor, Dylan’s continuing help with all the frightening things that have been happening, her body well fed, the fading effects of the wine still taking the edge off her worry, she does indeed feel fine. Her answer is a slow, sensuous kiss.

‘I’ll take that as a “yes”,’ he murmurs. He pulls back to look at her in the low light. ‘I know it’s rude to stare,’ he teases, ‘but I can’t stop looking at you. You are … fascinating. So beautiful. You look delicate, fragile, but you’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.’

‘It’s a common misconception,’ she tells him, trying not to sound like some sort of information broadcast. ‘People with albinism are often seen as frail. It’s one of the things other people find scary about us. About me. They are afraid I’ll break.’

‘But you won’t. You can run farther and faster than just about anyone I know. And I’ve seen you wield a pick axe and a lump hammer.’

‘I do have to stay out of the sun. A summer’s day can make me blister, though there are some pretty good sunblocks out there now. It must have been difficult in years gone by. Imagine what it would have been like all those centuries ago.’

‘You think the woman in the boat had the same condition as you?’

‘Whoever I saw when I put on the bracelet—the torc—she showed every indication of having albinism.’

‘It must have been hard. I mean, nobody would have understood. She would have been singled out for being so different, surely.’