“Hello,” said Mrs Haywood, an edge of suspicion in her voice.

“Hello. My name is Charles Primrose, Craftsman Primrose,” he said brightly.

“And how can I help you, sir? Are you looking for produce?” Mrs Haywood asked doubtfully.

“I hope you don’t mind me arriving out of the blue, but I was in Staplefield and someone mentioned that you have an extremely proficient young mechanic.” He looked down at a note in his hand. “By the name of Francis Haywood?”

Prue’s stomach lurched at the sound of her brother’s name. Mrs Haywood didn’t answer.

“Do beg my pardon. I’m from the Imperial Personifate Guild of Medlock – I expect you’ve heard of the innovations in bringing ghosts back into the world of the living.”

Prue’s heart gave a little jump.

“Yes, we do have newspapers in the country.”

“Of course.”

There was another awkward pause.

Prue peered from behind the water butt. Craftsman Primrose had a friendly, youthful face, with hair that was floppy on top and neatly trimmed at the sides. He wore wire-rimmed spectacles and was dressed in practical, but well-cut, expensive cloth – a fitted jacket in earthy brown tweed and matching trousers. A watch chain looped from his waistcoat button to pocket. He looked exactly how Prue would imagine one of the city inventors to look. Craftsman Primrose’s eyes flicked in Prue’s direction and found hers. He gave a quick smile. The sun lit a flash of silver writing as he took a midnight-blue card from his pocket and held it towards Mrs Haywood.

“We’re looking for apprentices at the Guild. Developments are happening all the time and we need the very best young minds to learn our craft and carry on the great work. We’re searching far and wide; in fact, I’m looking for my own apprentice to take on.”

“If things are moving fast that’s a sure sign to slow down, don’t you think?” said Mrs Haywood. “Just because you can do something, it doesn’t always mean you should.”

Prue huffed to herself.

Craftsman Primrose lowered the card. “Not keen on the personifate technology, Mrs…?”

“Haywood.”

There was an awkward pause.

“Perhaps you’d like to keep this and think it through. It really is a wonderful opportunity for a young person: the chance of an apprenticeship with a craftsman at the very forefront of technology. There would be an initial trial period, of course; nothing is guaranteed.”

Prue admired his polite persistence, but Mum was like an immoveable boulder when she wanted to be. It was where Dad said Prue got her determination from.