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‘My name is Alice Rose and … I was the baby you found up near the Oldstone on Blackdog Moor.’

‘Well, I’ll go to the foot of ower stairs!’ exclaimed Gloria, astonished, but Emily’s expression of bored irritation didn’t change.

‘It was Joe Godet, a local farmer, who found you, not me,’ she said.

‘But you were on the scene almost immediately, weren’t you?’

She looked at me narrowly. ‘Yes, but don’t let that give you the wrong idea. Joe Godet jumped to the conclusion you were mine and I’d just shoved you down that hole, but I soon put him right – and the police.’

‘Soyouwere that little sickly babby that was in all the papers?’ Gloria asked, still marvelling. ‘Eh, well, you’ve made fine strapping lass! Nearly as tall as our Em.’

‘There do seem to be a lot more tall women round here. I don’t stand out like a sore thumb quite as much.’

‘I’ve never let it bother me: why should I?’ Em said. ‘We’re all tall in my family except my sister Charlie: she’s the runt. Sit down,’ she added, which I did, for it was more a command than an invitation.

‘I think it was the height combined with having bright red hair that made me feel so conspicuous, really,’ I said. ‘And actually, I was already sure you weren’t my birth mother, because I’ve read all the newspaper reports from the time and it’s clear the police ruled you out.’

‘I was an effing vestal virgin at the time, wasn’t I?’ she said belligerently. ‘Had to keep pure, for the magic.’

It was a little hard to think of a response to this, so I decided not even to try.

‘I’ve just moved to Haworth and part of the reason I wanted to live there was to try to trace my birth mother.’

‘I don’t know how you’re going to do that, after all this time,’ Em said.

‘No, nor me, unless she comes forward, but I thought even if I didn’t, then talking to the two people who found me would at least give me some kind of closure.’

‘Well, I’ve no idea who she was,’ she said. ‘Your colouring’s distinctive with that hair.’

‘My eyebrows are naturally dark too: I think that’s quite an unusual combination.’

‘Maybe, but I can’t bring anyone to mind who looks like that … though those light green eyes of yours do ring a vague bell.’ She frowned and shook her head.

‘Could you describe what you saw, that night on the moors?’ I asked. ‘Joe Godet’s dead, but his son’s told me everything he remembered, which was quite a lot, because his father seems to have bored everyone with the story ever since.’

‘I don’t suppose I can add much to it, but if you really want to know, I’ll tell you.’

She put the lid on the huge, bubbling pot and checked the oven, where I could see a vast pie baking – presumably the apple one. She pulled it out and put it on a trivet to cool.

‘That’s done and the casserole can take care of itself, but I’ll make some scones while we talk. Sit down – and, Gloria, you wet a pot of tea,’ she ordered the old woman.

Then, while casually tossing ingredients together to make scone dough, she told me in a series of short, laconic sentences how she’d planned to drive up to the Oldstone in the early hours of that morning with a friend, to see the sun rise over the rock. ‘But there was a gathering at her house the night before and she’d overdone the sloe gin, sowhen she didn’t pick me up, I thought she’d overslept and decided to walk up there with the dog.’

‘Wasn’t that quite a hike in the dark?’

‘It’s a climb up out of the valley, but after that it was easy enough and there was a bright, full moon. There’s usually no traffic on those small roads to worry about at that time of the morning, either.’

‘So you didn’t see anyone at all?’

‘I did, but not until I was in the last, narrow bit of lane before the turn into the parking place near the Oldstone – do you know where I mean?’

‘Yes, I’ve been there.’

‘The lane’s deeply sunk between banks and walls and the road twists, so the car was on me so quickly I only just had time to drag the dog out of the way.’

‘But that could have been my mother on her way back, couldn’t it?’ I said eagerly. ‘Did you see who was driving, or what kind of car it was?’

‘It was gone round the next bend in a flash and the headlights were on full, dazzling me. I had the impression it was a Mini, though I couldn’t swear to it, so I didn’t mention it to the police. There weren’t that many Minis around here at the time.’