‘I need that wish more than you do,’ Rosa said. ‘We both know that’s the truth.’

Beatrice turned away from her. For a long moment she was silent.

‘That is n-not f-fair,’ she finally said. ‘You ch-chose to m-marry him. I h-have my own r-regrets. That I w-wish to undo.’

‘But your regrets don’t matter as much as mine do.’

Beatrice glanced at her. ‘They do to m-me. You do not kn-know what my w-wish would be. So you c-cannot say that y-yours has more w-worth. Than m-mine.’

‘Tell me what it is then.’

Beatrice shook her head. ‘It is n-not your b-business.’ Her voice held no reproach. ‘Just kn-know that my wish is as dear to my h-heart. As yours is to y-you. We all th-think our own p-problems are uniquely d-difficult,’ she went on quietly. ‘Because they are ours. But the t-truth is. Everyone struggles. With s-something. That is. Unbearable. To them.’

Rosa could feel her chance slipping through her fingers as she stood up to face the other woman.

‘There’s something I must tell you,’ she said, her voice strained with the effort of keeping it level. ‘It will sound strange. Unbelievable. But I need you to listen. Whatever it is you hope to wish for, it will have consequences you haven’t foreseen. It will lead to your being married to Eustace rather than me.’

The words had the effect Rosa had hoped. Beatrice’s face went grey and she physically recoiled.

‘H-How can you p-possibly kn-know that?’

‘The boy told me.’

‘What b-boy?’

Rosa sighed. ‘The one playing at your feet.’

He’d appeared slowly in the room during the last few moments. Just a faint outline at first, but rapidly becoming clearer and clearer until it looked as if he was really there. Beatrice had not reacted to him in any way, and Rosa realised she could not see him – that probably no one in the world could but her. When Beatrice looked down, she saw nothing but the rug, and a look of distrust crept over her features when she glanced back up at Rosa.

‘You are t-trying to t-trick me.’

‘There is another life,’ Rosa whispered, ‘trying to push through this one. It’s the truth. I do not know why I can see the boy. Perhaps it is because I have a little second sight, like my mother always said. Or perhaps it’s because I created the carousel. The child seems to be connected to that in some way that I can’t work out. Oh, I know it sounds strange! But please believe that it is the truth.’

She could see it was no use, however. Beatrice didn’t believe her. Perhaps Rosa wouldn’t have done either, in her place.

‘P-Perhaps you have l-lost your r-reason,’ Beatrice suggested. ‘Living th-there. In that dreadful h-house.’

‘I am not mad,’ Rosa replied, but even as she spoke, another Eustace appeared in the room with them.