‘What are you trying to do?’ she said to Edith. ‘Put another curse on my father? You bewitched him once, but you’ll not do it again. I won’t allow it.’

She turned and joined her father.

Edith watched them from the verandah and wondered how long Una had been there and how much she’d heard. By her pallor, Edith thought, time enough to have heard what she’d said.

At the gate the butcher stopped dead and only then did Una look at him and see he was still filled with fury. She went back to Edith.

‘My father did you the honour of asking you to be his bride,’ she said. ‘He offered to take you out of this pigsty, to live a life with… with…’ She waved her arms, searching her mind for the ultimate prize. ‘To live a life with a goose-feather eiderdown.’

The foolishness of what she was saying made Edith laugh. Una slapped her face.

‘Enough,’ shouted the butcher. Feeling himself vindicated, he marched back and took hold of Una’s arm.

The cabinet maker, who’d heard every word and was still frozen to the spot outside the henhouse, found his voice.

‘At least,’ he said, ‘we live in distinguished poverty.’

The second he’d spoken he regretted it for the butcher strode towards him. Edith, quick on her feet, ran and stood between them. The butcher spat on the ground, a gobbet of saliva narrowly missing her skirt.

‘Not a thing, not one thing will you be allowed in this village. No shop will sell to you, no one will give you wine, and anyone who does will be punished by me.’

‘And who made you a little king?’ said Edith.

The butcher stared at her white neck, her beautiful, unblemished skin, her defiant eyes, her extraordinary white hair. ‘Kill her,’ his mother whispered. ‘Kill her.’ His hand was drawn instinctively to Edith’s neck, he felt the pulse of life beat in her and, with one hand, he pressed. She didn’t resist. Butter couldn’t have been softer. She smiled at him. Una’s scream brought him back into the moment, breaking through his searing rage. He felt the blood pounding in his head and he let go. Edith crumpled to the floor.

‘Oh – Father!’ said Una. ‘Oh God.’

Outside the gate a small group had gathered. The butcher dragged Una through the onlookers.

‘It’s your fault,’ he said, ‘you interfering bitch.’

The cabinet maker was on his knees, begging the demon to bring Edith back to life when Misha ran into the yard.

Edith is in a sunlit forest, amid a mosaic of bluebells and primroses. The trees, hungry for the light, reach for the dazzling blue sky. She hears Demetrius’ voice. ‘It’s not winter, Edith. Turn back. Choose to live.’

She woke, gasping for breath. She was in bed.

‘Help me sit her up,’ said Vanda to her son.