‘When I moved to Extra Great Manor, I didn’t do anything at first. I walked slowly from one room to another; I took my time looking at each room. I looked out of every window, I walked round the garden. “Who are you?” That’s what I asked this house. Then I started cleaning. I cleaned every room, but I didn’t throw anything out. I listened to the doors creaking and the walls popping, and I practised heating the wood stove in a way that would stop it letting in smoke. Then one day, I had cleaned everything and the manor house started talking.’

‘What did it say?’ I asked.

‘It said, “Go ahead, set up a workshop.” And I asked where the best place would be. And Manor House replied, “The guest stable. You may set it up there.” ’

Auntie’s workshop has a tiled floor and a shower, like in a swimming pool, and metal vats big enough for me to have a bath in, if I wanted. It smells of wet wool and soap. Auntie’s wool products are big and thick and they’re hung on the walls.

Today, Auntie is about to start a new piece. I watch her spreading the base material on the giant table in the middle of the workshop. The table is so large that when there’s a celebration in the manor house, all the guests can fit round it. At least twenty candles burn in a candelabra that stands in the middle of the table.

But the candelabra isn’t there now, the table is clean, and Auntie spreads the thick, flame-red fabric over its surface. She takes off her socks, rolls up her trouser legs and picks up a bucket. Then she dissolves some Marseille soap in a bucket of water and stirs it with her hand while looking at the blank red fabric. The soapy water is hot, and Auntie’s hand goes red, too.

Auntie has already selected wisps of wool in different colours and placed them in a wheelbarrow. Now she climbs on to the table and starts arranging the wool on top of the base. First she creates the foundation, then on top of that she lays thinner strands in different colours. Auntie crawls around the colourful cloud that rises from the surface of the table, every now and then standing up to get a better view.

‘Is it fire?’ I ask, because I see red, yellow and orange, and it’s a bit boring just watching her prepare the table.

‘No,’ Auntie Annu says, not looking at me.

‘It looks like fire to me,’ I say, but Auntie’s not listening any more.