‘The hunting party – the young men that came up from town. Sorina told me what happened and you don’t…’

‘Oh, that,’ interrupted Una, laughing. ‘That was months ago. As I said, a young girl and her imaginings. It was nothing more than harmless fun.’

Edith wondered what had happened since yesterday to make Vanda more sympathetic to her. It must have been something serious but Una refused to hear what her sister was telling her in the space between her words. Edith thought about Sorina. It was true she was no longer a silly, fun-loving girl. She didn’t laugh so much, she looked… defeated.

‘Well,’ said Una, ‘I’ll have to do it myself.’

‘Yes, scuttle away,’ Vanda called after her. ‘Harmless fun.’

There was no reply. Vanda put a pile of potatoes on the table and started to peel them. They sat in silence, Vanda tutting under her breath.

Una came back with the logs, a martyred expression on her face. ‘I’ve had enough of this nonsense. I told you, nothing happened to Sorina.’ Vanda let one peeled potato plop into the pan. ‘And quite why Sorina is telling you such tall stories, I don’t know.’

‘You don’t know?’ Vanda laughed. ‘You must be the monkey that sees no evil. My son can hear none and Edith can speak none.’

‘No harm done, maybe a little more wine was drunk than should have been.’ Una laughed a forced laugh. ‘Men will be men.’

‘You foolish woman,’ said Vanda. ‘Do you really not know?’

The question hung unanswered and just then, to Una’s relief, Flora arrived with Lena. Edith saw from the looks on their faces that they must have heard what Vanda had said.

Una put on her Sunday good deeds smile, determined now to be gracious. Edith made coffee. The cabinet maker emerged unshaven and half-dressed into a kitchen of women. He turned and went back into his bedroom. No one said a word.

The seamstress took the toile for the wedding gown from her basket and hung it on the doorframe, a ghost of white calico. It spoke of a future that didn’t belong to the traditions of the village or these women’s lives.

‘It isn’t proper,’ said Una. ‘It’s indecent. There’s hardly anything of it. She will freeze.’

‘It’s going to be made in velvet,’ said Flora.

‘Such a dress as this can – and I am sure will – bring a curse on the wearer,’ said Una. Then, as if she needed to be told again, she said, ‘Whose idea was it in the first place?’

‘Your father’s,’ said Flora. She put the tape measure round her neck. ‘He usually gets what he wants, doesn’t he?’