‘Because it’s fashionable.’

‘Does it no’ make it hard to walk?’

Carey grinned. ‘A bit. But you get used to it.’

‘Do you like pretty clothes?’

‘Yes, very much.’

Now there’s the truth, thought Dodd.

‘What, made of brocade?’

‘Yes, only it’s purple. Mrs Dodd gave the bits to me mam when she made hers. It’s very beautiful.’

‘It sounds it. You’re a lucky girl.’

For God’s sake, Dodd thought to himself, what is the Courtier on about, prattling over clothes with a child?

‘And I am learning to sew. I made a purse for money.’

‘Excellent.’

Carey made a small choking sound which he turned into a cough and then smiled.

‘I’ll give you two pennies if you can show me you have a good memory.’

Eh? thought Dodd.

‘I have a very good memory,’ said Mary. ‘Me mam says so. She says she canna speak her mind without I’ll repeat it after.’ Her face clouded over momentarily as she remembered how the Deputy had come and taken her mam away.

‘I thought so. But I bet you can’t remember what happened on Monday.’

‘That was the day before me dad died?’ said Mary anxiously.

‘Yes,’ said Carey simply. ‘And I’m sorry for your dad dying.’

Mary blinked at him for a moment. ‘Why? Ye didnae like him, ye sacked him.’

‘Er... yes.’

‘I didna like him neither,’ Mary pronounced. ‘Is he no’ in heaven now?’

‘I... expect so,’ said Carey cautiously, who doubted it.

‘Well, then, it’s no’ sad, is it? Because we dinna have to be sae quiet when he’s about wi’ a sore head and there’s no sore heads in heaven. That’s happy, is that.’ Her face clouded and threatened rain. ‘It’s me mam I’m sad for,’ she whispered.

‘Do you think you can remember such a long time ago as the day before yesterday?’ Carey prompted hurriedly.

Mary paused, thought for a moment. ‘I can so,’ she said complacently. ‘Will ye gi’ me the pennies now?’

‘No. Prove it to me. What happened on Monday? Start with when you got up.’

She took a deep breath, frowned, closed her eyes and began. She had come downstairs when her mother called with her kirtle and petticoat already on, but her mother had to do up her laces because she couldn’t do bows yet. Did the Deputy Warden think bows were pretty? He did; Her Majesty had a kirtle all covered over with them made in blue satin. What happened next? Well, the boys came down in a hurry and ran off to school with the reverend and she ate her porridge and Julia came in late and she went hurrying up the stairs to find a ribbon she lost and then she came down again and her mother told her to start making the butter before the day got too hot and where had she been and Julia said nowhere and her mother was kneading bread and she said oh ay, then ye’d best be at the butter. So Julia said humph and went to the dairy for the yesterday’s cream to pour it in the churn and her mam said...

‘What colour was Julia’s ribbon?’ asked Carey inanely.

‘Oh,’ said Mary, frowning. ‘I dinna remember.’

‘Never mind. What happened after you ate your porridge?’

Mary had got out her sewing and started making some stitches and her mam had promised to show her a new one when she came down from taking her dad’s porridge and beer up to him and she went up with a full tray.

Mary paused here and frowned. ‘She was up a long time,’ she said. ‘And she came down and she’d forgot all about my sewing and wouldnae teach me the stitch but she sent me with a Message to fetch Andy Nixon.’

Carey nodded. ‘What was she wearing?’

‘Och, what she allus wears, her blue kirtle and petticoat, with the black bodice, nothing fine.’

‘What about her apron.’

‘Ay, she allus has her apron?’

‘Was it... was there anything different about her when she came down the stairs?’

Mary frowned again and shook her head. ‘Nay, only her voice was soft, like a whisper.’

Off went Mary in her memory to fetch Mr Nixon, with a long digression on Susan Talyer and how fine she thought herself because she had black velvet trim on her everyday kirtle, found him in the street with his arm in a sling and brought him back and he almost forgot to give her a penny, but then he did, and he went up the stairs to see her dad.

‘What did he say about your dad?’

‘Och,’ said Mary, frowning again. ‘He said he didnae want to see him at all and me mam said it didna matter, he’d see anyway and up he went and I had the buttermilk from Julia in the kitchen while she washed the butter and she asked what was happening and I said I didnae ken. I like Mr Nixon,’ she added.

‘And then what happened?’

Andy Nixon had come running down the stairs and out the door.

‘Ahah,’ said Carey grimly. ‘What did he look like? Was he dirty?’

Mary gave him a sidelong look of pity. ‘A bit. He was in his working clothes, but he doesnae labour, he’s a rent collector.’

‘Was there anything on them? Like mud or... er... blood?’

Mary shook her head.

‘Did you hear anything, a shout or a call?’

‘Nay, they was talking quietly.’