There is a note of pride in her voice, reminiscent of the old Lijsbeth. If their father had survived, he would doubtless have married her off to a fellow merchant’s son. Anna catches a vision of her sometimes – her sallow skin restored to brightness, her knotted hair brushed smooth, the very image of a wealthy Amsterdam bride standing stiffly beside her husband. In years to come, Lijsbeth’s grandchildren will stand in front of their marriage portrait admiring the handsome couple, envying the rich feast of half-eaten lobster on display, the glass goblets filled with crimson wine. Perhaps Anna would be there, too, lurking in the background. She doesn’t mind playing second fiddle to Lijsbeth. There are worse things in life than being overlooked.

‘We should be going soon,’ she says. ‘We don’t want to be late.’

Lijsbeth grunts. Anna hears panting, feet sliding on boards, then something heavy falling, a short, injured gasp.

Wrenching the curtain aside, she finds Lijsbeth lying on the floor, struggling to stand. One hand is thrust between her head and the hard boards to protect her face.

‘I slipped,’ she gasps, looking up at Anna as though daring her to contradict her version of events.

Anna helps her back onto the bed where she slumps her head bowed over her lap. She is so thin, Anna can see the knobs of her spine pressing through her thin shift. Her hair, the same straw-coloured shade as Anna’s, is loosely plaited and the ends are frayed as if she has been chewing on them in her sleep. Anna’s mother used to smack them if they chewed their hair. She told them she once knew a godless girl who swallowed so much hair it continued to grow inside her stomach, spreading through her body like the roots of a tree. Eventually, it strangled her from the inside out.

Lijsbeth raises her chin and fixes Anna with her watery gaze. ‘Go on ahead,’ she says. ‘The van Vliets’ maid will hardly notice if I’m a few minutes late. She’s a lazy girl who dawdles out by the canal, throwing kisses to passing boatmen. I suspect she has a lover. I’m yet to catch him. I would report her and have her sent away in disgrace, if we were back in Father’s house.’

‘Can I fetch you anything before I go?’

She expects Lijsbeth to refuse, but her sister draws herself further up the bed and waves an imperious hand at the dresser. ‘Lay out my clothes for me.’