‘Oh,’ I said again. I closed my mouth because my jaw was gaping.

Will laughed aloud. ‘You will frighten Sarah with your Jacobinism,’ he said cheerfully. ‘She will think you want to cut off her head at least.’

Michael looked quickly upwards, and smiled. He had an endearing crooked smile, one of his front teeth was quite gone. I saw now that he was younger than I had thought. And his face was not ugly at all but somehow crumpled. His clothes were not as odd as they had first appeared. I had thought he was in costume, but I now understood that his clothes must mean something. That everything must mean something.

‘I do not want to guillotine my sister,’ he said simply. ‘How could I? She has been a poor girl and lived a simple life as we do. I am glad to welcome you to your home, sister. I hope you will find much worthy labour to undertake here.’

My mouth twisted a little wryly at the thought of my ‘simple life’ which had been all deceit and costume and magic and cheating; and as for worthy labour – I did not think I had done a day of what this man would consider worthy, or even honest, labour since I was born. But I did not want to explain this to him.

‘You cannot be glad I have come home,’ I said baldly.

He smiled at me again, that sweet smile which had so much confidence in it.

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘There would have been a squire come to this village sooner or later, I am very glad it is you. You have lived among poor good people, you will have seen their sufferings. You will help us here to lead a better life. I do welcome you, sister.’

I stared at him suspiciously. Either he was an utter rogue or else a simpleton. It was not possible that he could be glad I had come home.

He turned to Will. ‘Would you like to come in, brother?’ he asked. ‘The young citizens would like to see their new sister.’

Will glanced at me. ‘No,’ he said, guessing rightly that I did not want to meet the children before I had time to think about their extraordinary teacher in this odd village. ‘Sarah is looking around today. She needs to get her bearings before she meets any more of us. Take them her greetings.’

Michael nodded. ‘Fraternal greetings,’ he said.

Will chuckled. ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘Take them her fraternal greetings and tell them she will see them later, tomorrow or the next day.’

Michael smiled at us both, and went back towards the school. We waited until we had seen the school door close and heard the rhythm of the rhyme break up into many high voices all asking questions, and then we turned our horses back towards the way we had come and past the church towards the Common.

‘He’s a great find,’ Will said. ‘You may think him odd at first but he has done more to help this village than anyone else. He has had experience of half a dozen corporations and communes and experimental farms and everything else. He was over in France in the early days of the republic. He is a member of every legal society you can think of – and a good deal more which would be called illegal, I imagine. We’re lucky to have him with us. It took a deal of persuading.’

‘You asked him here?’ I asked in surprise. I had thought him an idiot who had come here because he could not find work elsewhere.

‘I nearly had to go on my knees, only that would have been old-fashioned servility,’ Will said. ‘He is a dedicated and brilliant teacher with a commitment to a new world. Even after all the work he has put in here I do not think we can be sure of keeping him for ever. There are other communities who would badly like him, and I think in his heart he would rather be in the Americas than anywhere else. This country offers nothing for a man of his talents, they persecute him when they should see how urgently he is trying to make the lives of working people better.’

‘Is he safe?’ I asked. I had a dim awareness of people in France and a king toppled from his throne and a riot.

Will smiled. ‘He is a man of peace,’ he said. ‘I never met his like. He will not even eat meat because an animal will have met its death for his pleasure. When I think of him, and I think of the vicar!’ He broke off and sighed.

‘Now!’ he said. ‘I’ll guarantee to win a race against that racehorse of yours on this going!’

I looked down at the path under the horses’ hooves. It was deep sand, dusty on top and thick. Very heavy going. A horse would have to have strong legs and sound wind to gallop far and fast on that.

‘A wager?’ I asked.

Will laughed. ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘I bet you a side-saddle (for I’ve found it already but it’ll have to be repaired for you) against,’ he paused – ‘now, what do I want?’

His eyes twinkled at me. I found I was smiling back.

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I don’t know what you want.’

His eyes were suddenly a little darker. ‘If you were an ordinary girl,’ he said, suddenly serious. ‘I’d ride a race against you for a kiss. That’s what I want from you!’

There was a silence between us for a moment which was no longer playful, and I was not smiling.

I was about to say: ‘But I am not an ordinary girl…’ when Will interrupted me before I could speak.

‘But since you’re not an ordinary girl,’ he said. ‘I don’t want a kiss from you at all. I’ll ask instead that you let me read you a pamphlet on corporations and corporation farming.’

I choked on a laugh. Will was a rogue and a cheat – I suddenly thought how Dandy would have loved him and the familiar pain thudded into my belly.

‘What’s the matter?’ he asked quickly as he saw my face fall. ‘What’s the matter, Sarah? It’s only a jest.’

‘It’s not that,’ I said. I struggled to find my show smile which can go on my face and hide everything, meaning nothing. ‘It’s nothing. A little pain in my belly.’

His face was very gentle. He went to put a hand out to me but then he checked himself as he remembered that I did not like to be touched.

‘Well enough to ride?’ he asked.

‘Oh aye,’ I said, reining Sea in. ‘It’ll pass. And the bet’s on!’

He said, ‘One two three and away!’ and I gave Sea his head.

The race track was a wide white sand firebreak which wound for miles across the Common. I was in the lead as we broke out of the trees but the horses were neck and neck as we forged up towards a steady slope.

Sea was panting, he hated heavy going, but the cob had a steady rolling stride which ate up the ground. As the hill got steeper the cob went ahead by a nose, and then by a little more.

I raised myself up in the saddle and bawled at Sea, over the noise of the creaking leather and the thudding hooves and the flying sand, and he put his head down and went that extra bit faster. I guided him to the side of the path where the greening heather was a better foothold and his strong white legs reached forward, he put his heart into his speed and we forged ahead with a yell of triumph.

‘You win!’ Will shouted as the hill levelled out, and I pulled Sea up. He was panting, his flanks dark with sweat. ‘You win!’ Will said again. ‘And I’ll pay up, though riding on the edge of the firebreak is cheating.’

I beamed at him. ‘I always cheat,’ I said. ‘Especially if the stakes are high.’

Will nodded. ‘I should have known. What’s your game, Sarah? The bones?’

I shook my head. ‘Cards,’ I said.

Will chuckled and we turned the horses for home. ‘Where did you learn?’ he asked, entertained.

The sun was warm on my back and I was happy to be out on the land. A cuckoo was calling loudly and contentedly away over to our right and some early gorse was making the air smell sweet. Will pulled his cob alongside Sea and we went along companionably side by side and I told him about Da and his cheating at wayside inns. I told him how I was taught, when I was just a little child, to go around the back of the card players and to see what cards they had and to signal it to my da. I told him how Da would tell me to fetch a fresh deck of cards from the landlord and how I learned to stack them in the right order to suit Da, whoever had the deal.

‘And did they never spot you?’ Will asked, amazed.

I laughed at him for being a gull. ‘Of course they did, sometimes!’ I said. ‘I was only a little girl, my hands weren’t big enough to hide the stack. Mostly they didn’t. She was there too…’

I broke off. I had been about to say that she was there too and she would sing, or do a little dance with her skirts held out, and that the men who were fools enough to play with Da were also fool enough to take their eyes off him when a woman, even a little girl, was up on a table where they could see up her skirt.

I lost the thread of what I was saying and my face went bitter.

‘I can’t remember what I was saying…’ I said.

‘Never mind,’ Will said. ‘Perhaps you’ll tell me another time.’

‘Perhaps,’ I said. I knew I never would.

Will glanced at the sky. ‘About noon,’ he said. ‘I have to go up to the Downs later to check on the sheep. The lambs are with the ewes – would you like to ride up with me? They’re a pretty sight.’

I was about to say yes, but then I remembered Lady Clara.

‘I cannot,’ I said. ‘Lady Clara is coming to see us this afternoon and I should change into the riding habit.’

Will nodded equably. ‘I’ll take you home then,’ he said turning his horse’s head. ‘Can’t keep the Quality waiting.’

‘I’ll ride alone,’ I said. ‘I know the way.’

Will paused, looked at me. ‘Pain bad?’ he asked, knowing with his quick cleverness that it had not passed as I said it would. He did not know, as I did, that this was a pain that would never pass. It was not a share of bad meat which was tearing my belly, it was the loss of her which hit me afresh, every time I laughed, every time I saw something which would have given her joy.