Rosa’s fists were clenched at her sides. She didn’t notice that her pug, Cookie, had nudged the door open and had sat himself down companionably by her side, laying his favourite ball at her heels, already wagging his clockwork tail in anticipation of a game.

‘Whilst I have you here,’ Eustace said, ‘I have been meaning to speak with you about the new clockwork creatures for the garden, when we open to the public in July. I’ve decided that this year we should have a pair of swans to go with the peacocks. You may make a start this afternoon.’

Rosa glared at him. She knew the sensible thing would be to agree and quietly leave the room but suddenly it seemed important, in this moment, to make herself heard, or else a pattern for their lives would be set that she knew she’d never be able to escape. She no longer felt nervous, or afraid of what Eustace might say or think. Now she simply felt angry.

‘No,’ she said.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘As well you should,’ Rosa replied. ‘But I said no, and I will say it again. If you will not give me what I want, then I will do the same to you. You have made me feel like a … a thing. I am not a whore, sir – I am your wife, and I’m trying to tell you that you’re making me miserable. I will not produce another piece of clockwork for you until that changes.’

Rosa turned, intending to leave the room with an air of dignity, but Eustace was out of his chair in the blink of an eye. Moving faster than she had ever seen him do before, he reached her side in seconds, and she flinched in readiness for a blow that never came. Instead he snatched Cookie up from the floor.

‘No!’ Rosa cried, already starting forward. ‘Oh, please, don’t!’

It was too late. Eustace dashed the clockwork pug so hard against the wall that springs, wires and clockwork flew out in all directions. The dog’s yaps abruptly stopped.

It’s all right, Rosa thought. He can still be repaired; I can bring him back …

But then Eustace struck him against the wall a second time, and a third, and after that third blow there was no longer a clockwork pug in his hands at all, only a collection of cogs falling through his fingers.

And then there was the ghastly ring of silence, broken only when Rosa let out a choking sob.

‘Do not carry on,’ Eustace snapped. ‘We both know you can rebuild him in a day.’