Her words broke some spell for the butcher shook himself and without another word he left, ignoring the cabinet maker who went back to bed.

Flora closed Edith’s bedroom door.

‘What was that about?’ said Flora, not expecting an answer. ‘Now, put on your shoes and I’ll fix the hem.’

The shoes belonged to Lena, but Edith wasn’t able to find them. Her boots, she realised, were missing too.

‘Never mind,’ said Flora. She helped Edith to stand on a chest while she pinned the hem. She unlaced Edith who quickly changed back into her embroidered skirt, blouse and bodice. She sat on the bed as Flora folded everything away. When she’d finished she sat next to Edith.

‘There’s a reason that I wanted to come early this morning,’ she whispered. ‘We’ve been thinking, my brother and I. We’ve decided to help you escape from the village. So tomorrow my brother will be here before dawn. Look for his lantern. I have some money I can give you.’ Edith shook her head. ‘Is it because you want to marry the butcher?’ Edith shook her head vigorously. ‘Is it because you’re worried that the butcher would take revenge on us?’

Edith nodded emphatically.

Flora took Edith’s hands. ‘My brother and I aren’t staying in this village. Come the spring, we’ll be gone. I think we can weather the storm with the butcher. We are probably the only people here who owe him nothing. So just be ready. Don’t look so worried.’

She gazed at Edith for a moment then said, ‘I too have kept silent. There’s no one in this village I can tell except you — not because you have no voice but because you listen. Even when I’m saying far too much you hear me. It’s a gift you have — to hold the words of others and to understand without judgement. Which is more than can be said for the priest.’

Edith gently squeezed her hand.

‘It’s about my brother, the blacksmith. I’ve loved him all my life and he me. There was no one else I ever wanted to be with. When our parents died we began to sleep together in the same bed and… and… I was very ashamed of what we’d done and we agreed it would never happen again. It was hard for both of us. Then one day we found a box of my father’s papers and there it was: the man I thought was my brother was gypsy-born and had been sold to my father in exchange for three packets of tobacco.