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cold.’
    Llinos hurried upstairs and thrust the coat away from her with a feeling of repugnance. It smelled of him, of sweat and ale.
    She looked at the bed which her mother would share with Mr Cimla and she felt suddenly ill. It was done, her mother was married, Mr Cimla was in their lives to stay.
    She hurried across the landing into her own room and with shaking hands unfastened the buttons of her best dress. It was a pretty dress, high waisted, with long sleeves. Pale blue, sprigged with white flowers. The material was far too thin for a day as chilly as this one was but she had nothing else good enough to wear.
    She shook out the creases and stood for a moment savouring the moment of stillness, knowing that from now on there would be little peace or privacy. Everything was changed. He would be there day and night, demanding the best food and plenty of attention.
    Llinos pulled on her thick working dress. The warmth of the wool settled around her comfortingly. It had been left behind by one of the maids, unwanted, considered too worn to pack, but Llinos was glad of it.
    She would have to go back downstairs but soon she would make her excuses and go to work. She would tell Mr Cimla that an order for a decorative jug and bowl had come in and it was needed urgently. She knew already that he would not go easy on her, that she would have to explain her every move to him.
    In the sitting-room, her mother was perched on Mr Cimla’s knee and his hand was inside her bodice. Llinos stopped abruptly in the open doorway.
    â€˜Come on in, child.’ Mr Cimla smiled. ‘Don’t mind us. Your mother and me are a happily married couple, remember?’
    Gwen made an effort to move away from him but he held her fast, his knuckles moving beneath the material of her bodice. ‘Let the child see, it’s only natural after all. We are not doing anything wrong, are we, Gwen?’
    â€˜No, but some things are best kept private, Mr Cimla.’ Gwen’s protest was weak and in response Mr Cimla drew her face down to his and kissed her long and hard. He looked up then and met her eyes and Llinos looked away in embarrassment.
    â€˜Got work to do, child?’ he said harshly, his hand pushing Gwen’s skirts above her knee.
    Llinos nodded.
    â€˜Speak up then, what are you working on?’
    â€˜A jug and basin, a good one, I can charge a fair price for it.’
    â€˜ You can charge a fair price?’ His hand paused in its exploration of Gwen’s thigh. ‘Haven’t you got that wrong, little girl?’ His voice carried an undisguised threat.
    â€˜We, I mean,’ Llinos said quickly.
    He shook his head. ‘No, no, the word is “I” – me, Mr Cimla. I will decide on what charges I wish to make. Indeed, I shall be making all the decisions from now on.’
    He returned his attention to Gwen, who was flushed, her brow furrowed, an uncertain look on her face.
    â€˜Now get out, child,’ Mr Cimla said. ‘I have business with your mother.’
    Llinos hurried from the room, her eyes suddenly moist. She had to face facts, her mother was married to a crass, stupid monster and nothing was ever going to be the same again.
    â€˜Hey, Llinos, what’s this, then, tears, is it?’ Ben was standing beside one of the kilns, his pipe jutting from his mouth. He looked at her shrewdly.
    â€˜You’re troubled, is that it, Llinos? Worried what sort of stepfather that man will make. I don’t blame you, either, he’s no gentleman.’
    Llinos leaned against the old man and buried her face against the rough cloth of his coat. ‘Ben, I can’t stand Mr Cimla, I don’t know how I’m going to live in the same house as him.’
    â€˜Aye, some people make your flesh creep and he’s one of them.’
    Llinos looked up at him and drew away, suddenly aware that she was a Savage and should keep her dignity at all costs. It was all she had left, her