It was very different from making the wards with Kit. That sapped something from inside him; this gave him a new kind of feeling, loamy and rich. He smiled at Zita, and she grinned back: the first time that she did not seem to be loaded with irony.

‘When did you learn all of this?’

‘I’ve had plenty of time to do so. Some of it I taught myself. Other things Jack taught me.’

The sun caught her face as she turned to Tom, and he felt a flutter in his chest.

A distant yelping pierced the air. Something startled out of the trees. A flash of brown, long ears, twitching whiskers – a hare. And after it, fast as an arrow, Leana.

Zita stiffened and grabbed Tom’s arm. The hare was young. The lurcher was almost on it. Tom broke away from Zita and found himself puffing up, with a power he didn’t know he had.

‘Stop!’ The word came out of him like a pistol shot. Dog and hare stiffened and paused, as if held in an invisible web.

Tom reached forwards and grabbed the lurcher by the collar. She strained, retching a little. He wished he’d brought a lead. The young hare, stupefied, turned. Its whiskers trembled, and Leana yanked against Tom’s hold. ‘Ssh there, shush,’ said Tom. Then the hare vanished, almost lazily, back into the woods.

Tom, a smile bursting out of him, laughed with the adrenaline that was coursing through him, and looked to Zita for her to join in.

But instead she was pale and set. She gathered up her things.

‘Back now,’ she said. ‘And quickly.’

Tom, reluctant to let Leana go in case she ran back after the hare, picked her up and half-ran, half-stumbled after Zita, the dog’s ungainly body weighing heavy in his arms. He only released her once they had crossed back through the gate and were near the island. She trotted beside him quite peaceably.

Contrary to his promise, Jack did not appear at supper that night. When Tom asked if he should bring up a tray to him in his study, Zita simply snorted. ‘He won’t be eating anything tonight.’

So Tom, Zita and Kit ate chicken pie, cabbage and potatoes flavoured with mint from the garden, in the kitchen, with candles lit as the sun began to set, drinking fresh clean water. Leana, though, was prowling around the kitchen, ears pricked, scratching at the door moaning to be let out and then not going.

‘Something’s got into her,’ said Tom as he helped Zita wash the dishes in the huge, ancient sink. His supper sat heavily in his stomach. Kit was playing with the glass pendant, letting it spin around and catch the light.