Edith had been dreading their arrival. It was a tradition that every bride should be tested by her mother-in-law or other family members to see if her housework was fair or indifferent.

What does it matter, she told herself. You have nothing to prove. Neither of them wants this any more than you. Perhaps if she failed this test, they might persuade their father not to go through with the marriage. She took a deep breath and went to meet them.

‘There you are,’ said Una. ‘I could have slipped on these steps. Why aren’t they swept? Answer me.’

Edith was growing into her silence. There was nothing she could say even if she wanted to. The sisters knew that, as did the whole village. Uninvited, they walked up the steps, helping each other into the house. They hesitated on the threshold. She could see they were impressed for Edith had an eye for making even a fallen-down house feel homely.

‘Did you do the decorating yourself?’ asked Una.

The main room had been painted with small scenes from the mountain and the village life. Edith nodded.

The two women reminded her of figures from a child’s Noah’s Ark, their wooden noses poking into cupboards and chests. Una’s nose turned up, Vanda’s turned down.

Edith went about her tasks, ignoring them as much as possible.

‘What’s that smell?’ said Vanda, as she opened the door to Grandmother’s room. A hen waddled into the kitchen and Vanda shooed it into the yard. ‘You’ll have to run our father’s house better than this. Hens in a bedroom? That will never do.’

The sight of these two women, two spiders spinning a web from which Edith could not escape, made the wedding feel inevitable.

They talked. Oh how these sisters talked. They sounded to Edith as her hens did in the morning, full of pecking complaints.

‘Girl,’ shouted Vanda. ‘Girl, did you hear me or are you deaf like my idiot son?’

There was no excuse for her silence, Una said. It was time she spoke. The sisters agreed that no woman could remain silent so long; it was against her very nature. Not talking was an impossibility.

Una took hold of the broom and made a movement to startle Edith. Edith laughed.

‘There. You see, she can laugh. Therefore, she can talk.’ Edith stood her ground as Una made another lunge at her. ‘A proper hiding,’ said Una. ‘That’s what she needs. That’s what she’ll get when she’s married our father, and no mistake. A proper hiding.’

The problem facing the sisters, Edith could see all too well, was that this slip of a girl would soon be their stepmother. What could they do?

‘Goodness knows why our father should decide to marry again,’ said Una. ‘And why choose her?’

‘No,’ said Vanda. ‘Did you see the way she kneads the dough?’