The breeze carried the scent of the forest into Sasha’s bedroom. The curtains billowed against the sash window, seeming to resist the fragrance of greenery after the rain. Sasha’s reverie was interrupted by the weight of Fred, the Golden Retriever, landing on her bed.

            “Easy, boy.” She patted his head and he panted his greeting. Fred’s legs were stained green from his morning mooch in the forest. “What did you find?”

            Fred looked towards the door and jumped off the bed, his paws tapping his excitement on the floor planks. Sasha smiled to herself. It was about time she got up too. She listened to the birdsong bragging about new beginnings and new places to nest. Fred pushed his nose against her hand. “What is it?”

            A piece of wood jutted out of his mouth.

            “Give it, boy.”

            Fred dropped it on the bed. It was a wooden candlestick and had been carved to look like a tree from the forest. She sat up and leant against the headboard. Fred clambered beside her, staining the sheets with mossy paws.

“Where did you get this, Freddy?”

When she turned it over in her hands, she had an inkling of whose handiwork it was. She could smell the wood oil despite Fred’s generous gob. Two letters were etched on the bottom. So it was him. She had hoped her distance would scare him off, and it was no accident that Beatrice Arbiter had paid him special attention at the last town meeting. Beatrice was the sort who could make him happy; she oozed desperation for a home and family and made no secret of how stifling she found her father’s house.

“Will you take your tea in bed today, ma’am?” It was Susie, the housemaid.

“What time is it, Sooz?”

“Just gone six-thirty, ma’am. I was wanting to start looking for mushrooms in the forest, but I didn’t want to leave without doing my duties.”

Trust Susie to remember her manners. “Don’t worry, Sooz. I shall be down shortly.”

Susie spotted the candlestick. “So you found it, ma’am? It was outside on the porch. I think Fred thought it was one of them sticks for throwing.”

Sasha rubbed the hound’s head. “Of course he would. Silly old Fred.”

Fred raised his head at the sound of his name and then settled back in for his nap.

“Anything else I can do for you, ma’am?”

“Thank you, Sooz. Please leave my breakfast on the table. I’ll be down soon.”

Susie curtseyed and left, her heels hammering on the landing.

Sasha got the feeling that Susie would have liked her to entertain the story of the candlestick a while longer. She admired the grooves in the wood and ran her thumb over the initials again. When would he learn that she was not the one for him?

A piece of paper fluttered out of the candle end of the stick and landed on bedspread. The writer had pressed hard and the pencil had dented the paper with words.

Wherever you go, I will light your way.

Sasha groaned. Clearly Beatrice had not won his heart. She threw open the sheets, covering Fred in layers of cotton and her own body heat, and stomped across the floor to her window.

“Confounded man!” She hoped her voice would carry across the forest.

The leather gloves creaked against the wire. Jacob was fortifying the fence along the perimeter. He suspected Old Man Joe’s nephews were responsible for the latest hole as they stole into his orchard to pilfer oranges for their games of “Truth or Dare”. He wiped his forehead on his sleeve. The rains had been good but he was never a fan of the mud that followed even though his sheep seemed to love it. He knew he’d wash out at least an acre of sand once shearing started.

            “Boss.”

            It was his station hand, Hugh.

            “Morning. I trust mother and child are well.”

            “Indeed.” Hugh’s smile betrayed his pride. “I was wondering whether you needed me today. Fanny was hoping I could spend it with her.”

            “Of course. Take the rest of the week off. I’ll manage.”

            “No, sir, that is, I wondered if George could help out while I am away.” Hugh gestured to his cousin who was standing a few paces behind him.

            “You can vouch for him?”

            “Yessir. He’s almost as good as me. And I thought we could use the extra pair of hands with the weather changing.”

            “I’m glad I can depend on you to think ahead, Hugh. All right, let’s meet him.”

            George stepped forward, cap in hand. “Morning.”

            “Pleasure to meet you, George. How are you with pliers?” He looked at Hugh. “Come on, Daddy. Get home to your wife.”

Hugh nodded and retreated. George replaced his cap and retrieved gloves from his jacket pocket. “The wire is going to snap here, sir.”

            “What makes you say that?”

            “It’s too tight. It won’t last the first frost. It needs room to expand and contract.”

            “Well, aren’t you the scientist? Good job, George.” He glanced at the forest. “Look, you finish mending this and I’ll see you back at the house.” He handed the pliers to him and gestured at the wire. “I was thinking we’ve got to make sure Old Man Joe’s boys don’t come round here again soon.”

            George nodded. “How much wire can I use?”

            “Why?”

            “I want to make barbs.”

            “Then use as much as you need.” He waved and walked in the direction of the farm house. He could smell cinnamon as he approached. He was late for breakfast.

            “Jacob. I was just about to send out a search party.”

            “Sorry, mother. I got sidetracked showing George where to fix the fence.”

            “George? So he’s staying.” She gestured at the table and invited him to sit. There were boiled eggs, bread in a basket, mugs of coffee and assorted cutlery on the table.

            “Hugh will vouch for him, and we could use the extra help.”

            “Yes. I took round some bread and cheese this morning. Fanny looks exhausted, but she and the baby are well.” She placed jam and butter next to the bread.

            “I gave Hugh the rest of the week off. He should spend time with them.” Jacob nibbled on a crust. “He deserves it.”

            “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man more in love than he is with that baby.” Amelia placed one bowl of porridge in front of Jacob and another at the head of the table, where she sat.

            “You know that’s not true, mother. Dad loved you the same.”

            “All right, I take it back.” She sat down and chewed her porridge. “Any word from Latchberry Farm?”

            “No. Were you expecting something?”

            “Don’t play innocent, Jacob. I know you went there at the crack of dawn. You left mossy prints in front of the hearth.”

            “Guilty as charged. I thought you liked Sasha.”

            “I do. I just don’t want to see you hurt.” She watched him eat. “Anyway, what happened with Beatrice at the last town meeting? Helen Twell said she was all over you like a rash.”

            “Nothing happened. I think she got the idea I might be interested in her, so I set her right.”

            “I wonder where she got that idea from.”

            “Leave it, mother.”

            “I didn’t say anything.”

            “Good, then finish your breakfast.”

            George tapped on the door. “All finished, sir.”

            Jacob stood. “Good, come in. Have some breakfast with us.”

            “Very kind of you to offer sir, ma’am. I already ate. I’m going to check on the barn. Hugh said it needs mucking out.” He touched the rim of his cap and headed off.

            “He’s a dark horse, that one. More coffee?” Amelia stood to refill her mug.

            “Thanks, but no. I think I had better get back to work.” His chair scraped the floor. “Great breakfast, mom. Thanks.” He pecked her cheek and grabbed a hunk of bread on his way out.

            Amelia leant against the range and watched her son walk across the yard. It didn’t matter how old he got, she still felt that instinct to protect him. From the world in general, and from Sasha in particular.

Sasha leant against the side of the trough she’d adopted as her bath. The water was piping around her and the lanolin in the water acted as a balm to soothe her muscles. She felt the satisfying exhaustion that came from working hard all day. The men often muttered, when they thought she was out of earshot, that she made them look bad because she worked harder than most. Susie also enjoyed relaying the village gossip about how her mistress was putting the other farmers to shame because she deigned to work rather than attend to her pianoforte or sewing as the other wives in the district did.

            Sasha knew she posed a threat to the ladies of leisure because she mingled so well in the company of men. In fact, she preferred their conversation to trying to discover whose jam recipe was best, or which dressmaker enhanced the female form in the most flattering way. Her father had always taught her to be self-sufficient, and she demonstrated her gratitude to him every day by tending to her duties on the farm.

            “Ready to get out of your bath, ma’am?”

            “No, Sooz. I think I’ll sit here a while longer.”

            “No disrespect, ma’am, but you’ll prune.”

            Sasha laughed.

            “I’ll give you ten more minutes.”

            “Thank you, Bossy.”

            Susie snorted and Sasha listened to her heels clip the floor. She closed her eyes and willed her muscles to loosen their knots.

Voices made her jolt. She must have drifted off. The footsteps on the landing didn’t belong to Susie. She drew her knees to her chest.

            “Sooz?”

            “No, Jacob.”

            She heard Susie’s boots. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I tried to stop him.” Susie was breathless.

            “Jacob, please wait downstairs. You can see I’m hardly in any condition to receive visitors.” Sasha didn’t dare turn to look at him. She hoped the trough was high enough to preserve her modesty.

            Jacob sighed. Sasha heard his footfalls retreat.

            Susie moved to stand opposite her. “Ma’am, please don’t be angry. He asked me to borrow some sugar and then when I went to get it he came upstairs.”

            “Don’t worry about that. Just help me get dressed.”

Jacob perched on the chair by the fire. He was pleased to see that his candlestick had received a position of honour next to the photograph of Edward, Sasha’s father, on the mantelpiece. The shuffling overhead indicated that Sasha was making herself presentable. Susie’s nasal exclamations punctuated the silence. He prodded the wood in the hearth and looked for more to feed the flames. Susie clearly hadn’t refilled the holder. He placed his hat on the seat and went outside to the woodpile. Once he’d gathered an armful, and more than sufficient for the rest of the night, he looked up. Sasha was standing in the window and the lamplight framed her features. She seemed to be counting the stars and her nightgown was diaphanous on her body. Jacob swallowed and averted his eyes.

            Susie was waiting for him inside.

            “Oh. I hoped you had gone. I mean, I thought you had gone.”

            “You needed wood.” He dumped the logs next to the hearth and placed some of the thinner pieces on the coals. The wood popped and crackled. He heard the stairs creak behind him and he smelled the lanolin on her skin.

            “Thanks, Sooz. You can go.” Sasha’s braid was draped over her shoulder. The chestnut locks glowed in the firelight.

            “I can stay, ma’am.” Susie looked at Jacob.

            “It’s fine. Thanks for offering.”

            Susie scowled as she retrieved her shawl from where it hung on the pantry door. She slammed the front door louder than she meant to as she left.

            Sasha remained standing on the last step, her hand resting on the banister. “Why are you here?”

            “I wanted to check that Fred hadn’t buried my gift in his graveyard of bones.” He glanced at the mantelpiece. “I see it arrived.”

            “It did.”

            “I waited all day for an acknowledgement. Or a thank you.”

            Her eyes shone. “Thank you, Jacob.”

            He turned and prodded the wood in the hearth with a poker. “I see the paper is no longer where I left it.”

            “Yes.”

            “Which means you saw what I wrote.”

            “Yes.”

            He turned to her, his features softened.

She felt her heart clench. “I didn’t know what to say.”

            Jacob laughed. “That’s not true. You always know what to say.” He picked up his hat and sat in the armchair. “Come and sit by the fire, Sasha. You need to stay warm.” He rested his hat on his knee.

            She considered whether staying put might get him to leave sooner and decided that playing along might be the speedier option. She took the seat opposite him.

            “Confounded man.” He looked at her. “That was what you said.”

            She began to protest.

            “Don’t deny it. I heard you. I was waiting in the tree line.”

            “What do you want, Jacob? You seem to know the answers to all the questions you pose to me. In fact, you may as well be having this conversation on your own since you can speak for both of us.” Sasha stood and stroked the frame with her father’s face. She wondered what he would have said if he were alive to witness this turn of events.

            “I want you, Sasha.”

            The slamming of the door made her whip her head. He was gone but he’d left his hat where he had been sitting. Damn, now she’d have to return it. She picked up the hat and saw an object wrapped in linen. It looked like another candlestick. Sasha placed his hat on the arm of the chair and began removing the outer layer of cloth. The wood scent became stronger until the candlestick disentangled itself and landed on her palm. She instinctively felt for the initials along the bottom with her thumb. Another piece of paper stuck out of the holder where the candle would have been. She pulled it out with her free hand and then placed the candlestick next to its twin on the mantelpiece.

            Wherever you lead, I will follow.

            Sasha smiled into the paper as she raised it to her face. It smelt of the forest, of wood, of fresh air and of Jacob.

Jacob stayed on the porch, watching her delight in his gift. His heart swelled when she picked up his hat and carried it upstairs. With any luck, it would soon be him making that same trip with her in his arms. He began his trek home, pausing only to see her in the window, wishing on the stars. He hoped she was wishing for him as he wished for her. His face split into a smile and his love for her warmed him despite the chill in the air. He didn’t see how the moon turned the forest silver or that the fireflies guided him back along the path until he arrived at home.

After three hours in the downpour, Jacob found the sound of the water dripping from the rim of his hat soothing. What had started as a routine evaluation of the fence on the lower ridges of his property had ended up as a herd and rescue mission. Something – or someone – had spooked the sheep and he and George had their hands full trying to calm them again.

            “I reckon the foxes are about.” George squinted through the rain. “But this is a skittish lot. It may have been a badger.”

            Jacob surveyed the pasture. “I think the worst is behind us. I kept thinking that one of them would bolt when we had our backs turned.”

            “It’s always a risk.” He chewed on a piece of grass. “No more thunder tonight, sir. The gods have finished with us.”

            “In that case, we’d better head back. I’m soaked.” He hoped his mother had the sense to stoke the fire for his bath water.

            They began trudging up to the tree where the horses were tethered. In the distance, Jacob spied the silhouette of a man along the hilltop. “Anyone we know?”

            George snorted. “Nobody you need worry about, sir.” He chewed on the grass again and said, “I’ve seen him about. He visits these parts from time to time.”

            “If he’s looking for work, he might be in luck.”

            “I don’t think you mean that, sir.” George mounted his filly and set the pace of the trot.

            “What’s his name, then?”

            “Sebastian Faulkner. You’d do well to keep your distance from him.”

            “What’s he done to you?”

            George sniffed. “I’m not at liberty to say.”

Susie sprinkled water on the cotton and pressed the iron hard across the surface. It gave a satisfying sizzle and the steam warmed her face and hands. Sasha was attending to her correspondence at the kitchen table.

            “Sooz, he’s coming for a visit at last.” She scanned both sides of the letter. “And he might arrive as early as this evening.”

            “Who now, ma’am?”

            “Sebastian. You remember him.”

            Susie stopped ironing. Her face paled. The scent of the cotton scorching made her snap into focus.

            “Daydreaming, Sooz?” Sasha looked across the room and grinned at her maid. “He says he’ll be here for a few weeks. Apparently his second cousin Alfie has died and left him a small fortune in the form of a horse.”

            The smile did not spread to Susie’s eyes. “Do you think he will visit?” Her movements became deliberate. She smoothed the sheet in an attempt to stave off the sense of foreboding that his name invoked.

            “Yes. He will have supper with us tonight. Sooz? You’re pale. Is the fire too hot?”

            “I think I ... I think I need to lie down.” She swallowed and sank into the chair at the table. “Ma’am, please don’t ask me to stay and serve tonight.”

            “Of course. You look unwell, Sooz. Can I bring you some water?”

            “Thank you, ma’am. I think I should go, if you don’t mind.” She started clearing the ironing.

            “Leave it. Rather get to bed.” She silenced Susie’s protests with a wave of her hand. “I’d never forgive myself if you became ill on my account. Go to bed.”

            Susie’s eyes brimmed. “Thank you, ma’am.” She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders and slunk out of the door.

The sun cut into the clouds and streaked the landscape with golden light. Everything looked clean after the storm; it was Sebastian’s favourite time. He felt for the watch in his pocket and clicked it open in his palm. Just after four. He suspected Sasha would be waiting for him. There was still an hour of walking ahead of him and he rather hoped to arrive before dark. He leant on his walking stick and traced the trail into the valley with his eyes. At the end of that road lay the promise of food and warmth, so he persevered.

            It had been almost three years since he was last in Fairnwood and his observations told him that not much had changed. Except for that chap with George. He had watched them tend the sheep and felt George’s eyes sear him across the valley. Some people really knew how to hold a grudge. He wandered how Hugh was and whether Fanny had recovered from her miscarriage. If she had been an ewe then any farmer with some sense would have stopped breeding with her. Hugh’s flaw was that he loved her enough to keep trying, despite the gravestones that stacked up at the church.

            The wind was picking up. A woman scurried over the hill.

            “Well, well, well. If it isn’t old Susie.”

            She spotted him and stifled her cry with her palm. She hiked up her skirts and fled.

            The muscles in his hand tightened around the walking stick. “At least some things stay the same.” He continued walking to the glow that beckoned to him from the windows of the Latchberry Farm house.

George brushed his boots on the porch. The mud had stained the leather with a dusty residue.

            “How did it go today?” Hugh puffed on his pipe.

            “Fine. The sheep were skittish for a bit.”

            “Good.” He watched George handle the boots.

            “Sebastian is back.”

            Hugh dropped his pipe and the ash scattered on the porch. He stomped on the tobacco, killing the flames. “Does Susie know?”

            “Probably. He was heading for Latchberry.” George admired his handiwork. “You need to tell Jacob.” He stood and left Hugh staring into the dark.

“Three years and not so much as a by-your-leave and here you are. Why did it take you so long to come back, Seb?”

            He removed his coat and hat and stood warming himself at the hearth. “You know me, Sasha. Always drifting.”

            She poured them some wine to go with the bread and cheese she’d laid on the table. “Yes, but that is no excuse. I have missed you. Thank heavens people die or I would never hear from you again.” She nibbled on a piece of cheese. “Tell me about this cousin. And the horse.”

            “It’s a special horse and you’d do well to be respectful of second-cousin Alfie.” He leant close to her face and nipped her nose with his teeth.

            “Fine, but what do you plan on doing with it? I doubt you have stabling facilities for the poor creature.”

            “My sources tell me it’s a racehorse and if I can get a breeder interested, my dear Sasha, then I will come into a sizeable sum of money.”

            “And look down on all us poor farmers when you do.”

            “Naturally.” He stroked the stem of his glass. “What news do you have? Fill me in on everything I have missed.”

            “You remember John Davies who owned the farm next door? He and his wife decided to move to France, so they auctioned the land. A man called Jacob Mortimer runs it with his mother now.”

            “Does George work with him?”

            “Yes, and Hugh. How did you know?”

            “I saw them earlier. Hugh wasn’t there.”

            “No. Fanny has finally had a little girl. He’s staying with her until she settles.”

            “I am glad to hear it.” He broke off the crust and popped it into his mouth. “And Susie?”

            “She still works here. You would’ve seen her but she fell ill and I sent her home. It was the oddest thing. One moment she was standing here, ironing, and the next she was clammy and pale. I hope it is not influenza.” Sasha drained her glass. “More wine?”

Susie’s hands were raw. No matter how much she scalded herself in the water and soaped her body, the blemish would not disappear. She kept reliving the moment her fear stepped out of her nightmares and across the plain. He was back and his scent was on the wind. She scrubbed herself and tried to blot him from her mind. There was a knock on the door.

            “Susie?”

            It was George.

            “Yes.” Her voice croaked.

            “Are you all right?”

            Her response was a sob.

            “Can I come in?”

            He took her silence as assent and edged the door open. She was sitting opposite him, naked and shivering. A cake of soap had turned the water in the basin beside her grey and a sponge bobbed on the surface.

            “There, there.” George covered her with a blanket from the bed. Her room was even smaller than he remembered. The last time he was here, she’d been cradling a stillborn. He carried her to the bed and laid her down.

            “He is back.”

            “I know.” George rubbed her arm to soothe and warm her. “He won’t hurt you again.”

            “How can you know? He saw me.”

            “I’ll look after you. If you’ll let me.”

            She turned to him and curled up in his lap. “Don’t leave me tonight, George.”

“That’s new.” Sebastian got up and looked at the candlesticks on the mantelpiece.

            “They were gifts.”

            “So I see.” He turned them over in his hands. “Who is ‘JM’?” Before Sasha could speak, he said, “No, let me guess. Jacob Mortimer?”

            “He made them, yes.”

            “Clearly he is sweet on you. They look like they were made from the same piece of wood. See how they fit together?” He replaced them next to the photograph of Edward. “Am I to call you Mrs Mortimer next time I visit?”

            “No, no. There’s no talk of that. Not yet.”

            “Which means you have thought about it.”

            “Seb, you are my oldest friend and at the moment I am sorry that you know me so well.” She gathered the dishes and took them to the sink. “I have always cherished my independence. I am not about to surrender it to the first man who makes me – you laugh now – a pair of candlesticks.” She hugged herself. “Besides, I am not sure his mother likes me.” She walked to the hearth and began poking the coals.

            “Why do you say that?”

            “She’s old fashioned. And I think she is afraid I will hurt Jacob.”

            He took his pipe out of his jacket and began to clean it. “Will you?”

            “Not intentionally.”

            He eyed her silhouette as she arranged logs on the fire. “Do you love him?”

            Sasha looked at him as though he said something incriminating.

It was Amelia’s favourite part of her day. She sat and braided her hair after her bath. She was proud of the fact that, at her age, she still had colour and volume. Helen Twell, as an example, had turned prematurely grey. The steel wool she called her crowning glory could not be tamed. She heard Jacob moving downstairs. She expected him to be tired after his morning with the sheep. Instead, he became energised over supper as he described his plans for the barn. She had encouraged him to talk about it in detail – anything to keep his mind off Sasha. Listening to him now, as he paced, she knew the source of his agitation. She loosened her braid and brushed her hair again, wishing she could disentangle Jacob from Sasha as easily.

He needed something to do. She had not spoken to him since the night he visited Latchberry Farm. She knew what he wanted and he didn’t want to beg. But he could not sit there and wait. He was a man of action, he made things happen. His hands were itching to occupy themselves and his feet kept trying to steer them to her door. Was this love or madness? He put on his jacket and buttoned it against the cold.

            “Mother, I’m going out.”

Amelia watched him from her window and prayed he would find his way back to her.

Sasha couldn’t sleep. Her conversation with Sebastian had struck a chord. She didn’t know if she had it in her to love and Seb seemed to think she was capable of hurting Jacob by being herself. Fred snored next to her and jerked his paws as he dreamt of chasing butterflies in the forest. She patted his head and hoped he wouldn’t be the only man she ever loved.

            A sound made her look at the window. Her brow furrowed. She didn’t recognise the noise. Fred sat up, his reverie abandoned, and growled.

            “Easy boy.”

            He scrambled off the bed and bolted downstairs, barking as he went. Sasha followed him with her lamp. When she reached the kitchen, he was sitting at the door and his tail swept a half-moon on the floor behind him. She peered through the window. The shadows played tricks on her eyes.

            “Who’s there, Fred?”

            He whined. The knock on the door startled them both. Fred growled. Sasha steeled herself and opened it.

            “What are you doing here?”

            The lamp smashed as it fell. Fred whined and circled Sasha. He licked her face and tried to wake her.

            He stepped over Sasha and ascended the staircase. The bandana was tight across his cheeks. He opened the bedroom door and stood over Sebastian.

            “Sasha, is that you?” He turned to face the door. “Who’s there?” He squinted at the figure and saw the blade glinting in his hand.

He checked Sasha’s pulse before he left. He hadn’t intended to hit her that hard. She wasn’t supposed to be awake. At least Fred hadn’t resisted him. He closed the door and scanned the yard. A rustling sound from the forest quickened his pulse. It was Jacob. He swore under his breath and crept along the porch to the far end before scrambling over the railing and running into the night.

Something was wrong. Jacob could sense it. As he neared the house, he noticed the front door was ajar. He pushed it open. Fred’s tail was thumping the floor.

            “Sasha!” He cradled her head and kissed her lips, willing her awake. When she didn’t respond, he decided to carry her to bed.

She looked so beautiful and vulnerable in his arms. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. She was supposed to be awake when this happened. He laid her in her bed and pulled the blanket over her. Fred shadowed his every move. He was about to head back downstairs and summon Dr Patterson when he noticed the guest bedroom door was at a strange angle.

            “Oh, dear God.”

             Sebastian’s mouth was slack and blood and spittle coated his lips. One hand was on the knife in his chest and the other had fallen to the floor where more blood had pooled.

             Jacob turned his back on the scene. Sebastian’s eyes, once alert, were vacant and their death stare imprinted on his brain. He raked his hair before resting his palms on his knees and vomiting.

            Fred stood beside Jacob and licked his fingers, as if to reassure him.

           “Who did this, Fred?”

It was Fanny’s turn to soothe the baby. She roused her body and willed it to cross the floor to the crib. Once the infant was in her arms she reflected on her simultaneous joy and fear. She had lost so many others before. How could she be sure that this one was here to stay?

            “Everything all right?”

            She saw Hugh’s head rise above the covers.

            “Fine, love. Go back to sleep.” She settled into the rocking chair and began to hum. She hadn’t heard George return last night. He said Susie needed him before he left. It wasn’t like him to be talkative, but when he felt strongly about something then George didn’t keep quiet. The sunlight sneaked past the curtains and hit the wall of the cabin just above her head. She heard Hugh sigh.

            “Do you want tea before I go?”

            “Thank you, love.”

            If her moans were anything to go by, the baby was hungry. Fanny muttered to her as she prepared to suckle.

            “I see George isn’t back.” Hugh stacked the twigs for the fire.

            “Susie must have needed him.”

            “It’s more than that.” He leant back as the kindling caught fire. “He was out of sorts since he saw Sebastian yesterday.”

            Fanny swallowed. “When were you going to tell me?”

            Hugh stood and fetched the pail to collect water. “Didn’t want to worry you, love, now the baby is here.” He stepped outside.

            The baby. Her sense of unease had been right but it was misplaced. With Sebastian back, there was no telling how the neighbourhood would react. The baby jerked and fussed. She raised her to her shoulder and rubbed her back.

            “What do you think of the name ‘Cara’?” Hugh placed the bucket on the table and water sloshed over the sides. “It’s a strong name for our little survivor.”

            “Cara.” She felt the word form in her mouth. “Cara Elizabeth.”

            “I like it. I’ll call on the vicar so we can make it official.”

            “She’s officially still hungry. All right, little one, don’t fuss.”

            Hugh turned his back on Fanny and offered up a prayer for George, for Cara and for Sebastian.

Amelia had not slept. When Jacob arrived just after midnight with blood on his hands and tears in his eyes, she cursed Sasha. He stopped long enough to wash and saddle his horse before going to find Sheriff Fincher and Dr Patterson. She had tried to convince him to take her with him, but something in his voice warned her not to argue. Sleep did not claim her. Instead, she busied herself with making bandages, chopping vegetables for stew and darning the holes in her stockings. At first light, she blew out the candle and waited for some sign of her son. She must have nodded off moments before the rapping began at the door.

            “Mrs Mortimer, open up.” James Fincher’s eyes were bleary.

            She smoothed her hair and opened the door. “Morning, James. Do come in.”

            “Not this morning, ma’am. Jacob sent me.”

            “Is everything all right?”

            “Yes, ma’am. He said to tell you he will be home later. Poor lad has had a night of terror.” When he saw the look on her face, he said, “Not to worry, ma’am. After a bowl of stew and a rest, he’ll be good as new.”

            “Where is he now?”

            “Still with Miss Sasha, I believe. The poor girl’s had a nasty bump on the head. Can’t remember a thing about last night.”

            “And Sebastian?”

            “Between you and me, ma’am, the blighter had a few enemies around these parts. The trick will be to find which one introduced him to the Reaper.”

            “I had no idea.”

            “I’d best be going, ma’am.”

            “Can’t I persuade you to stay for tea?”

            “Thank you, ma’am, but duty calls.” He touched the rim of his hat and retraced his steps across the yard.

            Amelia watched him grow smaller and then her decision was made. She threw some supplies into her basket and trailed Fincher to Latchberry Farm.

“Deep breath for me now.” Dr Patterson’s face was lined as he concentrated. “Good.” He felt her forehead again. No change. “So it doesn’t hurt anywhere but your head, correct?”

            “Yes. I think I hit it on the floor when I fell.”

            “Right. And based on our conversation you seem to know who and where you are.”

            “I just can’t remember any more about last night. I have tried.” Sasha looked at Jacob, who was leaning on the door jamb.

            “It’s understandable. You have quite a bruise.” Dr Patterson collected his things and placed them in his bag. “I can only recommend the usual treatment for the headache. You don’t seem to have broken anything, which is a relief. Perhaps you should stay in bed today and rest.”

            “What about Sebastian? There are things to arrange. People need to be notified.”

            “I’ll see to that.” Nobody had heard Amelia come in.

            “Mother, I thought the sheriff told you...”

            “He did, but I couldn’t sit around and wait any more. You heard the girl, there are arrangements that need doing and I can see to that.”

            “You are a saint for offering, Amelia, but I cannot accept.”

            “Sasha, be quiet. The doctor has told you to stay in bed. If I have to wait around any longer, I will drive myself mad.” Amelia cursed Sasha’s bloody-mindedness. “Jacob, go home and sleep. I left you some breakfast, so make sure you eat it. Dr Patterson, come with me.” When nobody responded, she raised her voice. “Move it. Now.” She stepped out of Sasha’s room with its cloying overtones and waited for Dr Patterson.

            Jacob stayed back. “I’m right behind you, mother. I just want to say goodbye to Sasha.”

            “Hurry up.” Amelia took Dr Patterson’s arm. “Where’s the body?”

            He led the way to the guest room.

“Your mother is terrifying.”

            “I prefer to call it ‘protective’. I am all she has.” He sat on the bed. “Are you sure you are all right?”

            “Of course. A murder happens in my house and I have three strapping men running to my aid. How could I not be?”

            “Sasha, you don’t fool me.”

            Her tears gave way. “Damn you, Jacob. I was trying to be strong.”

            “I know.”

            “It still doesn’t feel real. He was my oldest friend.”

            Amelia called him.

            “Will you come back later?” She took his forearm.

            Jacob nodded. “I promise.” He kissed her forehead and stood. “Get some rest.” When he reached the door, she said his name. He faced her.

            “I’m scared. What if the person who killed Seb comes back for me?”

            “Sleep now. I’ll see you in a bit.” It took all the reserves of his strength to walk out of the room and downstairs when his instinct was to hold her. He found Dr Patterson and his mother.

            “Ah, here’s Fincher now. I think he’ll be able to give us the say-so about moving the deceased.”

            “Fair enough, Doctor.” Amelia studied his clothes. “I daresay there’s more blood on your jacket than I would have imagined. Was he a spurter?”

            Dr Patterson coloured. “No.” He looked at his clothes. “I hardly notice any more.”

            Fincher stamped his boots on the porch before entering. “Morning, all. How’s Sasha?”

            “She’s in bed. Dr Patterson has finished examining her.” Amelia answered first.

            “Ah, yes. Good.” He looked at Dr Patterson. “Any luck with her memory?”

            “Afraid not. She had quite a blow to the head.”

            “Well, these things can’t be helped.”

            “Jacob, go home. I can handle it from here.” Amelia shooed him out of the door, leaving him no time to greet the others. “How soon can we move that body, Sheriff? I don’t fancy having to wash the sheets any more than necessary.”

            “The sheets will have to stay with him, ma’am. They’re evidence. I’ve sent for the ambulance buggy. It should be here within the hour.”

            “Would you mind if I went too?” Dr Patterson felt Amelia sap his energy with her efficiency.

            “Not in the slightest. Thank you, Doc.” Fincher ignored Amelia’s scowl. Dr Patterson waved at them and left with his bag. “Mrs Mortimer, I am going to examine the rest of the house for clues. Perhaps you could make us some tea?”

An awareness of the weight on her was the first thing Susie noticed as she woke. George was lying on top of the bedclothes and his arm pinned her in place. He smelt of mud and wool and his beard tickled the back of her head. She shifted, hoping to wake him so that he would move off her, but his breathing did not change.

            “George.” She kept her voice low.

            He grunted and stood, dusting imaginary fluff from his trousers.

            She sat up. “Were you here all night?”

            “You asked me to stay.” He rubbed his eyes.

            “Thank you.”

            He nodded.

            “What time is it?”

            George looked out of the window. “Late. I should go.”

            “Let me make you some breakfast. It’s the least I can do.” She stood and put on her gown.

            “All right.” Another hour wouldn’t change the fact that he was late.

            There was a knock on the door. Susie flinched.

            George tried to flatten his hair and jacket, but sleep had creased both. He opened the door.

            “Ah, George.” It was Sheriff Fincher. He cleared his throat. “Is Susie in?”

            George stood back and let Fincher see.

            “Right. Susie, I take it you haven’t heard the news?”

            “No, sir.” Susie pulled her gown tighter.

            “A spot of bother at Miss Sasha’s. She had a guest, a Mr Sebastian Faulkner, staying last night.”

            “Yes.” Her voice was small.

            Fincher took a breath. “Well, the blighter’s gone and got himself killed.”

            George anticipated Susie’s collapse and caught her as she fell. He seated her on a chair.

            “When?” said Susie.

            “Last night. Jacob Mortimer found him.” He retrieved a notepad from his jacket. “Now, I’d appreciate it if you let me ask a few questions about your whereabouts. Purely routine, see.”

            “Yes.”

            “And you, George?”

            “Yes,” he said.

            “Right. Where were you between eleven-thirty and one last night?”

            Susie didn’t stop shaking, so George answered. “We were here, Sheriff. I came to check on Susie when I heard Sebastian was back. She asked me to stay.”

            Fincher looked at the bed. “Yes, I can see that.”

            “He’s really dead?”

            “Yes. I found him with his chest cut open and a knife in his stomach.”

            George covered his mouth.

            “Susie, if you don’t mind my saying, I’m glad he’s gone. After what happened, I think he deserved it. But that’s just between us, mind.” He tapped the side of his nose. “I think I’ve got what I need. Good day to you both.” Fincher’s eyes lingered on the bed before meeting George’s. The door slammed behind him.

            “It’s over.” Susie began to whimper.

            “I doubt that.”

            She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “What do you mean, George?”

            “They don’t know who did it and they’ll want someone to hang for the murder.”

            She stood and clasped his shoulders. “Tell me the truth: was it you? George? Did you kill him?”

            He closed his eyes. When he opened them, he saw her worry. “I think I should go.”

            “No. Answer me.”

            “You have already made up your mind.”

            “I know you didn’t do it, but I need to hear it from you.”

            “Doubt is a terrible thing, Susie. It eats at the soul like rust.”

            “Answer me, George.” She would not let him go.

            He sighed. “I wish I had.”

            Susie dropped her arms. “Why? That’s not who you are.”

            “Because he hurt you.” He shouted despite the silence. He turned his back to her.

            Susie stared at him as if for the first time. “You never said a word.”

            He laughed.

            She put her hand on his shoulder. “George, why didn’t you say? When you went away I thought it was because you hated me.”

            “No, no. It was because I hated myself. I didn’t stop him.”

            “You couldn’t have.”

            “The thought of him... It killed me.”

            “I survived.”

            “But I wasn’t there for you.” His shoulders shuddered.

            “George.” She stepped round him and took his hand. “I never stopped loving you.”

            He embraced her. Their eyes communicated what was in their hearts.

            “Kiss me, George.”

Fanny put Cara down for her nap when Hugh burst in.

            “I just saw Fincher. Sebastian is dead.”

            She raised her finger to her lips and gestured at the cradle. “Dead?”

            “Yes. Stabbed. He was found last night.”

            “My goodness.” She pulled the chair away from the kitchen table and sat. “I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was relieved.”

            Hugh nodded.

            “What’s bothering you?”

            “We haven’t seen George since last night.”

            “You don’t think he’s...”

            “I don’t know.” He chewed his thumbnail. “When Susie was attacked it nearly killed him, Fanny. We all know what sort of man Sebastian is. Was.”

            She stood and went to check on Cara. “I won’t believe it, Hugh. George is many things but he’s not...”

            “A killer?” George appeared at the door. “So you’ve heard.”

            “Where’ve you been?” Hugh tried to seem indifferent.

            “With Susie. All night. You can ask her.”

            “Are you all right?” Fanny rocked the cradle as she spoke.

            “Yes.”

            “And Susie?”

            “She’s fine. In shock.”

            Hugh stood. “Look, George, about before...”

            “Don’t explain. I did think about killing him. Many times. But it wasn’t me. I want to be with Susie and I can’t do that if I’m hanged.”

            “Right you are, George.” Hugh cleared his throat. He reflected on the home he had with Fanny and Cara. He was one of the lucky ones. “I’m going to check on the lambs. George?”

            “No. I need to speak to Jacob.”

            Hugh nodded.

            “See you later, love,” said Fanny as he stepped into the sunshine. She felt her heart surge with sadness for George. “There’s clean water in the pitcher if you want to wash.”

            “Thank you.” He turned his hat over in his hands. “Fanny.” It sounded like a croak. “She said she loves me.”

            Fanny smiled. “Of course she does.”

Something was wrong. Sebastian rubbed his eyes but it did not help him focus. He felt strange, as though he’d drunk too much. He stumbled into Sasha’s room.

            Sasha, I feel strange.

            She didn’t respond, so he tried again.

            Sasha? Wake up. I think I had too much to drink. He laughed at himself.

            She sighed in her sleep but did not wake. It was as though she didn’t hear him. He heard boots coming upstairs and she moaned. A woman strode into her room and glared at her.

            “Sasha, I am sorry to bother you again, but I cannot seem to find where you keep the soap. If it isn’t too much trouble, could you lead me to it?” Her voice dripped across the room.

            Sasha sat up. “Of course, Mrs Mortimer. Could you pass me my gown? It’s on the back of the door.”

            Sasha, stop ignoring me. You may still be angry with me for what I said about Jacob, but this is taking it too far. Answer me!

            Amelia handed her the gown. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot.

            “This could take a while, Mrs Mortimer. Shall I meet you downstairs?”

            “Be quick.”

            Sasha shrugged into the gown and flinched as the room started spinning. “Easy does it.”

            Sasha, let me help you. I’m sorry for what I said. I take it back.

            She lifted her braid out of where it was trapped down her back and walked through Sebastian on her way downstairs.

            He gasped and patted himself. He still felt solid. How was she able to pass through? Why was she ignoring him? He looked down and realised he was standing in the middle of her bed. He screamed.

Sasha bent and opened the cupboard under the sink. She retrieved a soap dish and handed it to Amelia. It had been where she said it was, but she chose not to argue.

            “Thank you.”

            The sound of hooves alerted them. The hospital buggy had arrived.

            “Took their sweet time. Probably stopped for a tea break under the trees. That body will be stinking to high heaven by now.”

            Sasha felt the bile rise in her throat. She stood, faster than she should have, and went to sit in the armchair at the hearth.

            Amelia opened the door and turned on her charm. “Much obliged to you, gentlemen, for taking the time to collect our corpse.” She tittered into her hand.

            “Yes. And it’s Missus?

            “Mrs Mortimer.”

            “Miss Sasha, actually.” She couldn’t wait for Amelia to leave.

            “Right. Stewart at your service. Where’s he laying, then?” He was heavy, as though burdened by the souls he’d carted across the countryside.

            “Would you like to take him upstairs dear, or shall I?”

            “I don’t think I could manage the trip. I still feel dizzy.”

            Amelia’s smile was triumphant. “Follow me, Stewart.”

            Stewart signalled to the man outside to bring in the stretcher and then lumbered after Amelia.

            The man was reticent on entering. “Hullo. I am Ben. Don’t mind me.”

            “Hullo Ben.” Sasha smiled and he blushed.

            He lumbered up the stairs with the stretcher and found Amelia announcing that they were to be careful not to bump against the walls or knock over the lamp.

            “Sheriff Fincher said you need the sheets? I hope that means you will launder them too. It’s not easy getting those kinds of stains out of linen.”

            Stewart rolled his eyes at her back. “Yes, ma’am.” He motioned to Ben and they began wrapping Sebastian in the bedclothes.

            That’s me lying there. And there’s so much blood. Sebastian darted to Amelia’s side. Tell me you see me, woman! I’m not dead!

            Amelia fanned the air where Sebastian stood. “Oh, dear. The flies are already here. Do hurry, gentlemen. I should rather like to avoid an infestation.”

            Sebastian ran at Ben. You must see me! This is a mistake. I’m not dead!

            “On the count of three.” Stewart prepared to lift Sebastian’s body onto the stretcher. Ben nodded. “One, two...” He huffed on three and shifted him across.

            “I’ll see you downstairs. Take care not to brush against the walls.”

            “Yes, ma’am.” Stewart rolled his eyes again. “Heads or tails, Ben?”

            “Tails.”

            “Right. You get to lead us down.”

            Ben sighed. “Don’t mind me.”

            “Ah, don’t start.”

Sasha had managed to get herself upright after the earlier dizziness. Her head ached in time with her heart. She needed to see him one last time.

            “Easy does it, chaps.” Amelia commandeered from her spot near the door.

            The stretcher was tilted and Sasha saw a red stain forming where his torso was. They reached the bottom when she said, “May I look? To say goodbye?”

            Stewart nodded at Ben and they stopped. “Suit yourself. You’ll have to open him.”

            Sasha trembled as the fabric parted. His eyes were closed and his flesh looked grey. Tears landed and left dark spots on the sheet. Her voice was a whisper. “Goodbye, my friend.”

            Ben coughed.

            “What?”

            “Me arms hurt.”

            “Don’t start.”

            Amelia approached and covered his face. “Save some tears for the funeral, dear.”

Sebastian was livid. He hadn’t heard of a single person who’d have to watch other people pretend they were dead. At any moment he was sure someone would jump out from behind some furniture and declare that it was all a joke. The body looked realistic, but even that was taking things too far.

            Sasha, stop this. You know I am not dead. I know you can hear me. Sasha!

He stood in the shadow of the trees and watched the house. It had taken him a long time to wash the blood off his hands. So far it seemed that he wasn’t a suspect. He’d feel much better once that body was in the ground where it belonged. The world was rid of another predator and he saw no wrong in that. He heard branches crack. Jacob had cleaned up since last night. And to think he had almost thwarted the perfect crime. He chuckled to himself and stopped when Jacob paused to listen. He held his breath and waited. Jacob continued, whistling as he walked. That had been too close. He retreated into the woods, taking care not to leave tracks.