Talek followed the path to the main pit. It took several minutes to climb the hill to be able to look down in it, but he knew that at the top the industrial landscape laid out before him was worth the effort. The crater was large, its south facing side peppered with men and threaded with streams of water flowing down its surface. The miners’ work was heavy and hard and no one noticed his arrival, which allowed Talek to observe the milky rivulets of water winning the clay in peace.

‘Captain, may I ’ave a word with yer?’

Talek turned and looked into the weathered eyes of Tommy, who was as part of this landscape as the clay itself.

‘Yes. What do you want?’

Tommy jerked his head towards the moon-like surface beneath them. ‘Weather’s been bad. Never seen ground so wet.’

‘The storm has passed. It will take a few days, but it will dry again.’

‘I’ve seen storms before. And ’tis true, this one wasn’t as bad as some, but I feel uneasy, Captain. My bones don’t feel right.’

‘Do you want to go home?’

‘Nay. I ’ave not taken ill. Just uneasy. Like there is another storm coming.’

‘I hope not. I have had enough troubles and could do with a rest from them.’

Billy arrived, panting. ‘Captain, Miss Kellow is here to see you.’

Talek frowned. He looked over Billy’s head and saw Grace approaching. His weary body surged into life at the sight of her.

‘She is waiting by the kilns.’

‘No she’s not,’ said Talek. Billy followed his gaze over his shoulder, horrified. ‘Unfortunately, Miss Kellow is stubborn and has followed you here,’ added Talek.

Billy slipped his cap from his head and began to wring it in his hands. ‘I didn’t know, Cap’n. I told her to wait.’

‘I don’t blame you, boy. She has a mind of her own.’

He noticed that the steep track had taken its toll on her dress, as her hem and boots were stained with white powder and mud, but she did not seem to care.

Billy ran to meet her. ‘This area is dangerous, miss. You should have stayed at the bottom by the kilns.’

‘Leave her.’ Talek turned to Tommy. ‘Take the boy away before he bursts into tears.’

He watched them leave before returning his attention back to Grace. She finally arrived, breathless and her hair tousled from the exertion, as if, he thought, she had been thoroughly kissed by a feverish lover. The realisation that another man would one day have that pleasure sharpened his tongue and he addressed her more harshly than he intended.

‘Who brought you here?’

‘My father.’

‘Then he should have known better. This site is dangerous.’

Empty wagons rattled along their narrow tracks in the distance, like a distant tribe beating out a warning message.

‘I went to Roseland first,’ said Grace, dropping her hem. ‘Amelia told me you were here. My father is returning in an hour to take me home.’

He should be pleased she had come to seek him out, but seeing her again, with her copper hair curling about her pale neck and her wide green eyes searching his to gauge his mood, only reminded him of all he had lost.

‘I thought I had made myself plain. I didn’t wish to see you again.’

Grace surveyed the scene below them. ‘Yes, you made it very plain. And I did what you asked me to, I left.’ She looked up at him. ‘But now I’m back. We need to talk.’

He had always thought her eyes were green, but now, standing only a breath away, he could see that there was more depth to them. Dark brown feathers radiated from the black centre to merge with the emerald green he had come to adore. Even now, when it no longer mattered, he was discovering new things about her.

‘You may need to talk, Miss Kellow, but I don’t. I needed loyalty, truthfulness and reliability from you . . . all of which you are incapable of giving.’

He saw her flinch, but she did not drop her gaze. Begrudgingly, he found himself respecting her for it.

‘I gave all of those, just to the wrong person. Yet if I had to do it all again, I’m not sure if I would have done it any differently. Talek, you must hear me out.’

‘I must?’

A soft tremor vibrated through his boots. A row of wagons carrying spoil were travelling along one of the narrow tracks.

Grace stepped in front of him. ‘Henry threatened to tell you about my background. I didn’t want you to know about it because I was ashamed.’

Talek had not expected this. ‘Go on,’ he said.

Grace stared at the floor. ‘Daniel Kellow is not my real father. My real father raped my mother. I am the result of that rape.’

The words came out in a steady flow. No hesitation, no pause, no sentence left to hang in the air between them. He wondered how many times she had rehearsed this moment. Had she expected him to answer by now? She lifted her gaze, appearing unsure.

‘When I discovered the truth of my birth, I was confused, angry . . . hurt. I couldn’t face the village. I couldn’t face anyone. So I fled.’ Her eyes searched his, looking for some reassurance. He wondered what she saw? ‘And that’s when you found me and offered me a place to stay and employment. It was my chance to start afresh and heal and I was grateful for that.’

‘Up to that day you always believed Daniel was your father?’

‘Yes. It broke my heart when I discovered he wasn’t.’ Grace took his hand in both of hers. ‘I didn’t want you or Amelia to know. I was too ashamed.’

Talek looked down at his hand in hers. ‘And Henry found out and threatened to tell?’

‘Yes.’

‘How?’

‘A man from Trehale found work here. He knew about my past and told him.’

‘Who?’ he asked, already knowing the answer.

‘It doesn’t matter now. I can’t hide my past forever. I hope you can understand.’

Talek lifted his gaze to look into her eyes. Her eyes were filled with hope that he might. Only he didn’t.

‘You must have thought very little of me. The truth is your explanation does not shock me. Petherbridge came to see me a few days ago. Henry had paid him to keep quiet, but when the money ran out he approached me, hoping I would pay for his silence too.’

‘And did you?’