Note to the Reader:

I usually write on two stories at once, but for some reason Rosemary began to tug at my sleeve and did not want to wait for one of the two current stories to be completed.

The story begins in S.R. 1388, when Rosemary Took, daughter of Ferdinand and Stelliana Bolger Took, is ten years old and her brother Ferdibrand is five. The outline is not yet complete, but the story will go at least through Rosemary's wedding, and may continue through the time of the Troubles, or even later. I suppose it all depends on whether Rosemary's story is well received, or if she's only interesting to me... An OC can be a difficult "sell", after all. Many people refuse to read fanfiction where an OC is the main character. Of course, our favourite hobbits will appear, and hopefully in ways that expand upon their characters as well. So come with me, if you will, and explore yet another layer in the rich, deep world that Professor Tolkien created...

How do you take your tea? And would you prefer seedcake or apple tart?

Sparks of kindness kindle love's glow.
--Shire proverb

Chapter 1. News from Bree

Tookfields-on-the-Water, near Bridgefields, S.R. 1388

 ‘Where’s my little treasure-box? Where’s my cup of honey-mead, half-drunk-up but never empty? Where’s my little barley cake?’ The rich syllables rolled forth, interlaced with laughter.

Little Rosemary Took pulled away from the hairbrush, crying, ‘Uncle Ferdi! Uncle Ferdi!’ Her favourite uncle was home again at last.

Trailing undone laces from her dress and half-brushed curls she raced into the yard, her mother’s voice lifted in protest behind her, to be caught up in a whirl; the world spun around her in a blur of green and blue and silver. At last the world stopped and a series of kisses landed upon her forehead and cheeks.

 ‘Num, num, num,’ “Old” Ferdibrand said with each kiss. ‘You’re good enough to eat!’

Rosemary was laughing helplessly and pushing against him to get down.

A kiss landed upon her wild curls and her uncle made a sound of dismay and disgust. ‘Argh!’ he cried, ‘but someone has baked their hair into this teacake!’

 ‘Uncle Ferdi!’ Rosemary giggled, pushing again and he set her down in the yard. She immediately began to dance and clap her hands. ‘What did you bring me? What did you bring me?’

A small but very determined missile interrupted the uncle’s reply, however, as “Young Ferdibrand” launched himself and landed upon his uncle’s chest, caught as always in his uncle’s strong arms, for he could never take “Old Ferdi” by surprise no matter how he tried.

 ‘What did you bring us?’ the little lad’s voice added his demand.

 ‘Ferdi, you spoil them dreadfully,’ Stelliana Took said from the doorway of the smial. She advanced, hairbrush still in hand. ‘Rosemary, look at yourself! You’re a sight! Your dress half on and your hair...’

 ‘Ah, she is a sight indeed,’ “Old” Ferdi said, seeing his little niece wilt at her mother’s words, but he wore a fond smile and scooped Rosemary close once more as he clarified, ‘a sight for sore eyes!’

 ‘Ferdi!’ Stelliana scolded, but she could not quite manage to keep hold of her frown as he turned to her with sparkling eyes, still hugging her little ones close.

 ‘Hair will keep,’ he said firmly. ‘More than keep,’ he said, laughing down at Rosemary, pressing harder against him, ‘unless of course you pull it out by the roots as you try to coax the tangles.’

 ‘I never...!’ Stelliana protested, but her brother-in-love only laughed.

A booming bass laugh preceded a shout from the stables. ‘What did you bring me?’

 “Old” Ferdi turned to greet his older brother. ‘Ferdinand!’ he shouted. ‘I come empty of hand but full of heart!’

 ‘Go back where you came from then!’ Ferdinand returned, affecting severity. ‘Fullness of heart won’t win any races or pull any carts!’

 ‘Ah, but I beg to differ, brother!’ “Old” Ferdi said, managing to bow even with the two little ones clinging to him.

 ‘Did you come afoot as well?’ Ferdinand said, stopping short to look his brother from head to woolly toes and back again. ‘I sent you off with gold and gelding and you return... empty-handed? Did you throw it all away on a wager?’

 ‘I may be a Took, but I’m not a fool,’ the younger brother said. The little ones had quieted in the face of their father’s disapproval, and their uncle hugged them tighter in reassurance. ‘You know I gave up wagering!’

Ferdinand planted his fists on his hips. ‘This had better be good,’ he said grimly.

 ‘Indeed!’ his younger brother said, releasing niece and nephew to spread empty hands. ‘I was riding along with my pockets full of gold and an old wizard stepped out onto the Road and offered me a handful of magical beans...’

 ‘Magical beans!’ young Ferdi said, dancing again in his excitement. Tales of wonder, wizards and faerie folk were the spice of his young life.

 ‘Magical beans,’ Stelliana echoed in dismay, looking from husband’s ominously beetling brows to brother-in-love’s expression of innocent surprise. 

 ‘What did you do with them?’ practical Rosemary wanted to know.

 ‘I got hungry along the way, so...’ old Ferdi said, stooping to look her in the eye. She caught her breath, already divining the answer, even as he said in a voracious tone, ‘I ate ‘em!’

Little Ferdi deflated in disappointment. ‘You ate ‘em?’ he said in astonished disgust. ‘You’re not supposed to eat magical beans! You’re supposed to plant them by the light of the moon, and then...’

 ‘Well I just wish I’d had you along to keep me straight, Ferdi-my-lad,’ old Ferdi said regretfully. ‘I tell you what—next time I go to Bree I’ll take you with me!’ He straightened, to meet his older brother’s sceptical look.

 ‘That won’t do at all,’ Ferdinand said grimly. ‘You took all the gold we’ve saved, and...’

 ‘Won’t do?’ old Ferdi said, sighed, and shook his head. ‘Very well.’

 ‘Very well what?’ his brother asked, suspicion in his tone.

For an answer, his younger brother turned and whistled. The little group waited, Ferdinand in exasperation, his wife in apprehension, the little hobbits in growing excitement, and old Ferdi with an ever-brightening grin.

From the copse of trees to one side of the lane, a neighbour lad stepped forth, leading three ponies.

Ferdinand caught his breath. ‘Three...?’ he gasped. ‘I sent you to Bree for one fine brood mare, and you...’

 ‘Well, these are not exactly mares, not quite yet,’ old Ferdi said modestly. ‘They’re yearlings, and so a bit of a gamble, but...’

 ‘You said you’d left off wagering,’ Stelliana reminded him.

 ‘You should have seen their dams!’ old Ferdi burst out excitedly. ‘And their sires! Two of them are half-sisters...’

Ferdinand strode forward to meet the advancing ponies, and his brother fell in beside him, matching his strides. ‘Three mares...’ he said, guessing the parentage.

 ‘...and two stallions, aye, brother,’ old Ferdi said. ‘You were right about that Breelander with his fine ponies from the Southland. Evidently he travelled far in his youth and brought back some fine ponies and horses when he turned homewards again.’

 ‘Ponies and horses from whence?’ Ferdinand demanded.

Old Ferdi shrugged. ‘I don’t know, some rolling plain somewhere, many days to the South,’ he said. ‘Men aren’t known for their sensible ways.’

Ferdinand shuddered at the thought of travelling so far from home and hearth. They had reached the beaming neighbour, and he took in the fine heads, intelligent eyes, clean lines of the young ponies before him. He ran a hand down a leg of the nearest pony. ‘Promising,’ he breathed, standing upright once more. ‘Very promising indeed.’ He shook his head, adding thoughtfully, ‘Nearly makes one want to travel to these mythical Southlands, if one might find such fine beasts there...’

Old Ferdi laughed heartily. ‘Now you’re the one having me on!’ he said. He thanked the neighbour lad, fished a copper from his pocket, took the ponies’ leads, and sent him on his way home, that he might not be late for tea.

Stelliana, who had caught up with them, took her husband firmly by the arm. ‘He travels quite enough already,’ she said decidedly.

 ‘Not quite enough,’ Ferdinand said, patting his wife’s hand.

Stelliana rolled her eyes, knowing what was coming.

 ‘We’re off again?’ old Ferdi said. ‘Where are we going?’

Young Ferdi started to blurt something, but his sister clapped her hands over his mouth. ‘It’s not your news to tell,’ she corrected him.

Ferdinand wore a smile of his own. ‘That matched foursome,’ he said, ‘the one that took so long to put together, and that I was working with when you left...’

 ‘You found a buyer!’ old Ferdi said.

 ‘Brother mine,’ Ferdinand said loftily, looking down his nose at old Ferdi. ‘I have found not just a buyer.’

 ‘I don’t understand,’ old Ferdi said. 

 ‘When hobbits see our foursome trotting down the Road, pulling the coach of the Thain...’

 ‘The Thain bought the bays?’ old Ferdi said, stunned.

 ‘Better,’ Ferdinand said smugly.

 ‘Better?’ old Ferdi said, looking from Stelliana’s shining eyes to Ferdinand’s broad grin to the excited little hobbits.

 ‘Better,’ Ferdinand said. ‘Herself!’

 ‘Lalia bought the bays?’ old Ferdi said.

 ‘Sight unseen,’ Ferdinand said. ‘It seems our reputation as the finest pony trainers in the Shire has reached the Great Smials.’

 ‘And whichever way go the Great Smials...’ old Ferdi said, his own grin broadening.

 ‘So goes the rest of the Shire,’ Ferdinand said. ‘At least, the rich folk do.’

 ‘Well, brother,’ old Ferdi said. Had he not been holding the leads he'd've rubbed his hands together to warm them in anticipation of gold's chill. ‘Not only have we become all the fashion, but we’ve now the brood mares to found the finest stables in the Shire.’

 ‘Better than magic beans any day,’ Ferdinand muttered, stepping forward to acquaint himself with the young ponies.

Author's Note: Am in the middle of research in "Glisters" and "Thain", and outlining another story that promises to be exciting, or something of the sort, but thought I'd polish and post another chapter of Rosemary's story for anyone who's experiencing withdrawal pangs. Sorry if it's somewhat boring, but that often happens when in Jessamine's company. (Probably why you never see much of her in these stories.)

Chapter 2. Tea with the Bolger

 ‘No time for that,’ Stelliana said sharply. ‘We’ll be late for tea!’

 ‘Tea with the Bolger?’ old Ferdi said. ‘And here I am, travel-stained and unwashed. You’d best go on ahead without me.’

 ‘Not at all,’ Stelliana said, her tone too sweet. ‘I still must do up this wild filly’s tangled mane. You’ve time for a cold wash, though not a hot bath as would be proper.’

 ‘Heartless, you are,’ old Ferdi said with a pleading look. ‘Ah, brother, will you not intercede for me? A cold wash, I tell you!’

 ‘I’ll intercede for you, indeed I will, brother,’ Ferdinand growled. ‘I’ll intercede you right into the Water, I will, if you don’t take yourself off at once and make yourself presentable.’

 ‘That would be a cold wash,’ old Ferdi said thoughtfully, showing no sign of heeding his brother’s threat. ‘If I could swim I’d be tempted... it’d be quicker than a sponge bath.’

 ‘More thorough as well,’ Ferdinand said, ‘the way you smell! I’m tempted, myself, to throw you in. You weren’t born to drown, as the old seer said at the Free Fair...’

 ‘Then I ought to chance it,’ old Ferdi said, but seeing the distress in the eyes of the little hobbits, he gave over his jesting and scooped little Ferdi into his arms. ‘On second thought,’ he said, ‘ ‘Twill be warmer, to stand before the hearth as I scrub off the dust of travel. And young Ferdi can hold my towel for me and catch me up on the news.’

 ‘I’ll just show these lasses to their new homes,’ Ferdinand said.

 ‘Hurry!’ Stelliana said. ‘And you’d better wash the pony-smell from your hands before we go.’

 ‘Of course, my dear,’ Ferdinand said smoothly, giving his wife a peck on the cheek before turning to lead his charges away. When safely out of earshot he muttered under his breath, Mustn’t offend the Bolgers’ sensitive noses with the stink of ponies, now! He loved his wife dearly, but her family... oh, Odovacar wasn’t so bad, and his brother Rudivacar was nearly so sensible as a Took, but as a whole the Bolgers of Budgeford were awfully aware of their position and the necessity they perceived of maintaining it.

The way Stelliana fussed, very like a clucking hen, they'd have come half an hour early had it not been for Ferdi's arrival and hasty bath. As it was, they were a few minutes early for tea. Jessamine stood regally at the top of the stairs leading up to the entrance of the stately old manse to greet her daughter’s family. ‘Ferdibrand!’ she cried gaily, after greeting her daughter and son-in-love and exclaiming over her grandchildren. ‘I’d heard you were away, darling lad! Beyond the Bounds, they said!’ She gave a delicate shudder.

 ‘Mistress,’ old Ferdi said, taking her fingertips in his hand and bowing. Jessamine’s nose wrinkled slightly from habit more than anything else. Ferdi doubted any trace of pony remained—he’d scrubbed diligently, even the curls on head and foot, and donned the fresh clothes that a clucking Stelliana had draped over a nearby chair as he bathed.

Herugar reclaimed his wife’s hand and tucked it under his arm, beetling his thick white eyebrows at the young Took. He harrumphed and said, ‘Well, then, well come. You’ve returned in good time, and just in time for my wife’s birthday tea.’

 ‘Indeed, Sir,’ old Ferdi said with his most charming smile. ‘I made every effort to return in time. Why, I walked through the night, last night, just to be sure...’

 ‘To be sure,’ the Bolger said in dismissal.

Tea was as tiresome as old Ferdi had expected. Rudivacar asked many questions about Bree and the new ponies, until the Bolger quelled him and turned the talk firmly to the Quarry and the weather and other proper topics.

Young Ferdi only spilt his tea twice, and spoke not at all, for he was spellbound, watching eight-year-old Freddy Bolger fill his plate and empty it several times during the course of events. The lad would grow as stout as his grandfather, the way he was going!

Young Rosemary was on her best behaviour, earning compliments from her grandmother and Auntie Rosamunda, Odo’s wife. ‘Such a sweet little thing,’ Rosa kept saying. ‘Ah, brother... I shall steal her away from you one of these days, I surely shall!’

 ‘Just so long as you give her back,’ Ferdinand said complacently.

There really is not much to tell; it was a birthday tea, after all, and went much as one of these will go, with none of the surprises or upsets one might expect at such a jolly affair. The Bolgers of Budge Hall were anything but jolly in those days. Lalia of the Great Smials set the fashion amongst the great families, and Jessamine was, it must be said, fashionable to the best of her ability.

She was very impressed that her son-in-love had caught the attention of the grand dame of the Shire. Perhaps ponies were not so dull and dirty after all.

 ‘You’ll be taking them to the Great Smials?’ she said, delicately dabbing at her lips with her snowy serviette. ‘When?’

 ‘On the morrow,’ Ferdinand said politely. ‘We were asked to leave this day as a matter of fact, but of course we could not.’

Jessamine tittered nervously. ‘What, you put off Mistress Lalia on my account?’ she said gaily, but her eyes showed her unease.

 ‘Not at all,’ Ferdinand said quickly. He took Stelliana’s seeking hand and squeezed it reassuringly. No, my love, I will do my best not to upset your mother! Difficult though that might be. ‘One of the mares was due to foal, and I could not leave her so. However, now that Ferdi’s arrived, I can confidently leave her in his capable hands.’ He raised his cup to his lips for a sip and then added, ‘I sent off a quick post rider with the news just after he arrived.’

 ‘You’ll be leaving for the Great Smials on the morrow?’ Jessamine said brightly.

Ferdinand followed her thought; she was hoping to ride along in the coach to the Great Smials, have a nice visit, and ride home again. Two days travelling with his mother-in-love, and then two days back... ‘Aye,’ he said, ‘but we won’t be stopping at the Smials any longer than to settle the agreement. We’ll be going on into the Green Hills, to visit relations, before we return here.’

 ‘It’s time for our annual visit to Whittacres, you know,’ Stelliana added. ‘Paladin Took has a new crop of ponies to train, and...’

Jessamine’s smile had faded at the words “Green Hills”, and disappeared completely at her daughter’s reminder that Ferdinand was a working hobbit. A pony trainer! And so totally unnecessary, when he could live a life of leisure what with the fortune settled on the only daughter of the Bolger at her birth.

 ‘Well,’ she said frostily. ‘I suppose I can manage without my dearest daughter for a month. But to be parted from my darling grandchildren...’ Her face brightened and she turned eagerly to Herugar. ‘Why don’t we keep the children, beloved? They can be good company for little Freddy!’ She knew very well that Stelliana could not bear to be parted from her children for any length of time; this seemed a practical way to cut the threatened visit short.

Rosemary looked about to burst into tears, and young Ferdi looked up in dismay, to meet his father’s half-wink. ‘I’m sorry,’ Ferdinand said, turning with a well-feigned look of regret towards Jessamine. ‘That would be quite impossible.’

 ‘Oh?’ his mother-in-love said, quiet challenge in her tone. Stelliana swallowed hard, but her husband gave her hand another squeeze.

 ‘Indeed,’ Ferdinand said. ‘You see, Mistress Lalia has specifically instructed me to bring the whole family to tea. Why, it would go against her wishes to leave the children at home, no matter how much their grandparents dote upon them!’

 ‘I quite see,’ Jessamine said, abruptly changing direction with a decisive nod. ‘We would not want to put Mistress Lalia out, not by any means.’

 ‘Not by any means,’ Herugar said. Though he’d seemed half-asleep, he’d been following the conversation keenly. He knew very well how things stood. He certainly didn’t want mischievous young Ferdi underfoot for a month! ...and his wife’s efforts to cut short Stelliana’s proposed month away were fraught with that danger, should her plan go awry. ‘You had better take our grandchildren with you!’

He smiled at his only daughter, with a wink of his own. And I hope you have a lovely time! he mouthed. Jessamine was deaf enough that he knew she wouldn’t hear, and as she was staring at her daughter he knew she wouldn’t see, either.

Stelliana’s lips quirked and she looked down at her plate to compose herself before looking up to meet her mother’s gaze once more. ‘It will be difficult to be away so long,’ she quavered convincingly, while winking a few tears to seal her performance. ‘But we’ll make the most of it.’

I’m sure you will, Rudivacar whispered, and laughed as Odovacar kicked him under the table.

 ‘Is there some sort of joke?’ Jessamine demanded, swinging to confront her sons. ‘Do be so kind as to share your witticisms with the rest of us!’

Chapter 3. An Interrupted Journey

Ferdibrand, hanging out the window of the coach, waved at his uncle all the long drive down the lane to the great East-West Road. Only his mother’s expert grab saved him from falling as the coach slowed and turned onto the Road. Once out of Bridgefields, of course, the coach stopped so that the lad could ride on the box with his father, and no fear of repercussions from Jessamine hearing of such a thing. (It was bad enough that Ferdinand drove the coach himself, rather than hiring a driver!) Rosemary only wished that she could sit up on the box, too, but that would be going too far, and climbing up in cumbersome skirts would be difficult indeed. Not for the first time she rued being born a lass, but her mother soothed her, saying there were compensations she’d learn about, someday when she was older. So many good things were promised for “when you’re older” that Rosie was in quite a hurry to grow up at last.

They travelled at an easy pace, and though they did not stop at any inns to rest and eat that first day, having packed baskets full of food, they did stop overnight in Stock. Little Ferdi was disappointed that they had not caught sight of the great Brandywine River in all their journeying, for the road to Stock branched off to the south quite before the Bridge, and ran perhaps a mile from the River’s banks.

Ferdi stared with fascination as they passed the common room on their way to their private quarters. Many hobbits mingled at the tables, eating and drinking, laughing and telling tales, and in one corner a game of darts and in another a hobbit played a squeeze-box while several others sang. How he longed to join in! ...but Stelliana, mindful of position and propriety, ordered their meal served in their room. Bathed and fed and tucked into bed, with Rosemary already breathing the measured rhythm of sleep, Ferdi was drowsily aware of his parents’ voices, the door opening, his father’s murmur before the door shut—and Ferdinand was off to the common room, for a pipe and a pint and a game of draughts. How Ferdi wished he was old enough to go along!

They were up early next morning, this time setting out on the Stock-Tuckborough road. They’d stay the night at the Crowing Cockerel, half-way to the Great Smials, and then make their way through the ever-increasing Green Hills on the last leg of the journey, arriving enough before tea-time to make themselves presentable and take tea with Mistress Lalia and her son the Thain. The Bill of Sale would be finalised, and next morning they’d mount the two ponies tied to the back of the coach, two-and-two, Ferdi riding with his da and Rosie with her mum, on a winding track through the Green Hills to Tookbank, and down the road to Whitwell, and finally to Whittacres Farm.

How exciting! Ferdi had been to Whittacres Farm as a faunt, but he remembered little of that visit. His father spent several weeks every summer there, training “Uncle” Paladin’s newest crop of ponies for the autumn pony sale, and once again the whole family were invited!

The Woody End was rather boring, just trees passing by in slow march as the ponies jogged along. Ferdi tried to pretend that the coach was standing still and the trees were walking, just to make things interesting, but it wasn’t long before he was yawning and the trees were passing in a green blur.

He jerked awake at his father’s roaring “Ho-o-o-o-o-o!” His father had thrust one arm before Ferdi to catch him from falling forward while hauling back on the lines with the other, and the moment he was sure his son was safe he grabbed up the reins in both hands to deal with the plunging ponies.

 ‘What is it?’ Stelliana shouted out of the coach window, and Ferdi asked the same question, for all he could see was the ponies, obviously upset, though calming under his father’s steady hands and voice.

At last they stood, trembling, and Ferdinand wound the reins round the whip socket and taking Ferdi under one arm, he jumped down from the coach and strode forward. Ferdi craned for a view. His father patted the near-leader’s neck as he passed that pony, took hold of the reins, stopped and stooped just under the ponies’ noses.

There was a young lad there, not much older than Rosemary, lying in a quivering heap in the road. He was curled in a ball, hands up over his head.

 ‘Are ye daft?’ Ferdinand roared. ‘Running in front of a coach-and-four that way!’ But his tone softened as the lad didn’t respond, simply lay there.

Ferdinand put his young son down, patted the near-leader again and said, ‘Hold them for me, Ferdi-lad?’

The nearside-leader put its nose down to be scratched, already forgetting its fright. Beautifully trained, these ponies were, intelligent and gentle. In some ways it was a shame to be selling them, but already Ferdi was making friends with the new ponies from Bree. And someday, he’d have a pony all his very own, never to be sold. But that was beside the point, at the moment, as he watched his father kneel in the dust beside the curled-up lad.

 ‘What is it, Dinny? Is he hurt?’ Stelliana said at Ferdi’s elbow. Absently she stroked the glossy neck of the pony beside her.

 ‘Might be that one of the ponies knocked him down, but at least we didn’t run him over,’ Ferdinand said. He ran his hands over the lad, murmuring soothing words, and when reasonably confident there was no injury done, he helped him sit up. The strange lad was wide-eyed and breathing raggedly. He looked from face to face, opened his mouth as if he’d speak, and then pointed desperately into the woods on one side.

 ‘What is it, lad?’ Ferdinand said, following the pointing finger. But the lad did not seem able to speak.

 ‘Perhaps he’s mute,’ Stelliana said gently. ‘In any event, there’s something amiss, Dinny, off in that direction. You had better follow him.’

 ‘Can you lead me there, lad?’ Ferdinand said. ‘Stellie, I hate to leave you here...’

 ‘We’ll be fine,’ Stelliana said briskly. ‘With such a brave hobbit to watch over us, eh, Ferdi? We have nothing to fear. We’ll tie up the ponies and have a picnic while we’re waiting.’ She looked down at her young daughter. ‘Rosie, get out the basket with the red lining, love. The innkeeper’s wife packed us a nice little second breakfast in that one...’

 ‘Can you stand, lad?’ Ferdinand said, and at the youngster’s nod he helped him to his feet. ‘Let me just unhitch these fine fellows and tether them,’ he said.

The lad jumped to assist in the work, and soon the ponies were secured and Ferdinand and the silent lad were jogging into the woods. Ferdi wished he could go too, to see what the matter was, but he had an important commission.

Rosemary wished that she could go, as well, but there was no use in saying so. She busied herself in helping her mother, all the while wondering at the interruption in their journey. And what would Mistress Lalia say, if they came late to tea? She knew how her grandmother would have reacted, and she’d heard whispered gossip while her mother was looking at yard goods and Rosie was browsing the candy jars at the other side of the provisioner’s shop, to the effect that Mistress Lalia was “an hundred times worse than our Mistress, and then some”.

Would Mistress Lalia turn them away? Would she refuse the ponies? Would they miss their holiday at Whittacres Farm?

She’d made fast friends with Pimpernel and Pearl Took, both in their previous visit to the farm when her brother was little more than a baby, and when Paladin had brought his family to visit Bridgefields.

But now, everything seemed to hang like the leaves in the trees, awaiting a breath of a breeze. The woods had swallowed her father as if he’d never been. Rosemary shivered.

 ‘You’re not taking a chill, are you, daughter?’ Stelliana said at once, tucking her own shawl around Rosemary’s shoulders.

 ‘I’m well, Mum, really I am,’ Rosemary said earnestly. ‘All’s well.’ But she wondered if she spoke the truth. Surely her father ought to have returned by now!