Una stamped her foot. ‘How dare you walk out of church like that? Do you think you’re above us all? I know this holy silence of yours is a sham. I see through you, you little bitch.’

Edith remained expressionless and started to walk away. Una caught her skirt.

‘Don’t you dare turn your back on me!’

Losing her temper to righteous indignation Una attacked Edith, her small hands aiming to slap Edith’s face and missing. Edith didn’t flinch nor take her eyes off hers until Una ran out of steam and became conscious that she looked an ass. Defeated, she returned breathless to the church.

Since the avalanche, Edith hadn’t heard Demetrius in her head or seen him in her dreams. Don’t give up now, she told herself, you will find him again.

Vanda hadn’t been in church and the news that her father had no intention of postponing the wedding was almost enough to send her mad. Later that morning she went to see him. Heart pounding, her legs shaking, even the sight of him filled her with revulsion. She found him slitting open pigs, pulling out their insides into a bucket.

‘This wedding must wait until the spring,’ she said. ‘It isn’t right to hold it now, not with Misha gone.’

‘Isn’t it what you wanted?’ her father said without looking up at her.

‘What do you mean?’

‘To be free of that idiot.’

In a blind fury, she ran at him, knocking over the bucket. He put his hand on her face and shoved her away. Vanda fell backwards and he stood over her, his knife in his hand.

‘Why didn’t you come to clean my house?’ he said, kicking her sharply. ‘Why send Sorina?’

Vanda scrambled to stand. ‘I didn’t send Sorina – that was Una’s doing.’

‘The girl’s no good at cleaning. But still…’ He stopped then said, ‘It will be for Edith to do after the wedding. Go and wash yourself. There’s pig blood on your ugly face.’

Vanda stared at the butcher and wished she was a man for she would have killed him. If she had a gun, she would have shot him.

‘Go home, bitch.’ He pushed her until she was flattened against the tall yard gate. His eyes closed, a smile on his lips, he put his hands round her neck and tightened his grip. The gate shuddered and he sprang back as Vanda slumped to the ground.

‘Who’s there?’ said the butcher.

‘The mayor – I want a word about the wedding.’

With one hand the butcher lifted Vanda to her feet.

‘Get out,’ he whispered, opening the gate.