Edith glanced up at a knock on the door. She opened it and found the cobbler there holding a pair of boots.

‘I think these are your size, Edith,’ he said. ‘And no, I don’t want any money. They’re a wedding gift.’

He looked past Edith and was surprised to see his wife sitting calmly at the table.

‘Vanda?’ he said.

She stood and turned to him. ‘Take me home,’ she said.

Chapter Twenty

The Eve of the Wedding

The cabinet maker had already taken the pig to be slaughtered for the wedding feast. Edith had wept to see it go as she had enjoyed the animal’s company far more than her father’s.

As was the custom the Sunday afternoon before a wedding, six young men of the village went from house to house striking pots and pans and knocking on every door with the cry of ‘Bring cream’. This summons meant that each household was honour-bound to contribute to the wedding feast and every gift was rewarded by a glass of wine. In normal times this would be an occasion for celebration but there was nothing ordinary about this winter or this wedding. A glass of wine did little to lessen the anxiety felt by everyone.

Tradition dictated that the bride’s future mother-in-law would oversee the cooking of the wedding feast. In place of the mother-in-law, Una arrived early with Sorina. Edith let them in then took up her seat by the window and resolutely watched the snow falling, refusing all requests to help.

Lena arrived shortly afterwards to hear Una shouting at Edith.

‘If this is the way you are going to run my father’s house you will have short shrift from him.’

‘What are you shouting about?’ asked Lena.

‘Look at her,’ said Una pointing at Edith. Then seeing Lena was alone asked, ‘Where’s your mother?’

‘At home,’ said Lena.

Flora arrived next. She went to Edith and laid a hand on her shoulder.

Vanda was the last.

‘You’re late,’ said Una. ‘It sets a bad example, if I may say so.’

‘Example,’ repeated Vanda, weighing up the word. ‘Example of what? We are in the middle of a disaster. This wedding isn’t right. Two people have died, my son is still missing, and there isn’t enough food or fuel to last the winter. What happens if illness strikes us? We’ll all be dead for there’s no way out of this place. So what example are we talking about?’

‘Calm yourself,’ said Una.

‘No, Una,’ said Flora. ‘Vanda is right. We shouldn’t be calm – we should all be angry.’

‘We can’t spare the food, but we have no choice,’ said Flora. ‘Edith has no voice and no say in the matter, and still we must cook. Because that’s what’s done, it’s tradition.’