‘Well? What do you say?’ He came towards her and she stepped back. ‘Don’t you trust the gypsy to keep his word? Is that it?’

He poured himself a glass, his hands trembling. ‘You’ll do as you’re told. Swear on your mother’s bible.’

However much she hated the idea, she knew, as did every other village girl, that without the consent of the elders nothing happened in this community – and the head of the village elders was the butcher himself. Her freedom lay with the shepherd. She had to trust that Demetrius would return to her before the first snowfall.

‘Why wouldn’t he?’ she said defiantly to herself. ‘Why wouldn’t he?’ she said again as reluctantly she went to find her mother’s bible.

‘No, no,’ said her father when Edith returned with it and began to take the oath. ‘Not here; this has to be witnessed. It has to be proper.’

‘Witnessed by whom?’

‘The mayor.’

‘Father, I’m marrying Demetrius.’

The cabinet maker put on his hat.

‘Wait,’ said Edith and before she could stop him he had taken a firm hold of her arm and they’d set off through the yard, her father kicking the hens out of his way as they went.

She noted that her father showed the same determination to have this oath done as he normally would when in search of a bottle of wine.

The mayor’s house was painted yellow ochre and was far more substantial than any of the other houses. The mayor and his wife, Georgeta, had a son, a sickly young man who was away at university. The mayor employed two maids and a cook, unheard of in a small mountain village. He had been born into privilege, yet for all his fine clothes, his library and chain of office everyone knew who held the power. Not the mayor but the butcher.

One of the maids came to the door to say her master was not at home.

‘Poppycock,’ said the cabinet maker, pushing her aside. ‘Don’t stand there, girl, go and get him.’

The maid tried again. ‘As I said, the mayor…’

‘This won’t take long,’ said the cabinet maker who was a bottle short of sobriety.

The mayor’s wife, hurried into the hall to see who was causing the fuss. She was a tall, striking woman, cleverer than her husband, and had been married to him long enough to be deeply disappointed by him. Unlike the other women in the village she wore modern dress and still after many years was regarded as a newcomer. Her only friend had been Edith’s grandmother.

‘Can I help you?’ she said.

She was perplexed to see Edith was holding a bible.

‘No,’ said the cabinet maker. ‘Women only complicate matters. I want to see the mayor.’

‘Is it about the wedding?’

‘Yes. And I want to see the mayor.’