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heaven.
    ‘Apparently they think He does,’ Rebecca replied, ‘because they keep doing it and can’t see the harm in it, but we’re doing our utmost to stop it.’
    ‘Do they all do it?’ Kitty asked, appalled but fascinated.
    ‘No, not all of them, thank the Lord. But even one is too many.’
    Jannah Tait, clearly not approving of this sort of talk, even among women, redirected the conversation. ‘Tell me, Kitty, what made you decide to take up missionary work?’
    Sarah said quickly, ‘My niece has always been a devout girl. When her father died last year she felt that becoming more involved in God’s work might assist her to put her grief behind her.’
    Kitty stared at her aunt.
    Carefully not meeting her eye, Sarah deftly changed the subject again. ‘The Chambers family was mentioned at supper, Mrs Purcell. May I ask why in fact they did return to England?’
    ‘Did your husband not tell you?’ Rebecca asked in surprise.
    ‘No, he did not.’
    ‘Oh. Well, it certainly was a tragedy,’ Rebecca began. ‘Unforgivable on Mr Chambers’s part, of course, but a tragedy nonetheless. Mrs Chambers was not what you might consider a woman of strong constitution—’
    ‘She was totally unsuited to the life of a missionary’s wife,’ Jannah interrupted.
    ‘Quite,’ Rebecca agreed, ‘although she was a very pleasant woman. But she really wasn’t suited to life here in New Zealand, as Jannah says, and I’m afraid her nerves got the better of her. She became very ill and eventually found herself unable to carry out even the simplest of duties. She spent most of her time in her bed, speaking to no one and weeping almost constantly. She developed quite a mania and there was nothing we could do to help her in the end. It was most upsetting, for everyone.’
    ‘Her husband helped himself, however,’ Jannah said, ‘by forming personal liaisons with several of the Maori girls. He became very indiscreet and we were compelled to inform the Society, and the family was ordered home to England.’
    From the strange and oddly vulnerable look on Sarah’s face, Kitty could see that her aunt was wishing she hadn’t asked after all.

Chapter Three
    K itty woke early. Exhausted after such a long day, last night she’d had a perfunctory wash, hastily plaited her hair, then fallen into bed and a deep, dreamless sleep. This morning it had taken her several moments to remember where she was. She missed the ceaseless rocking motion of being at sea, but the susurration of small waves lapping at the beach not far from her window soothed her.
    She sat up, scratched at her sweaty scalp under the heavy plait, and looked through the window. It was warm already and, unlike yesterday, the sky was cloudless. Dying to relieve herself, she slid out of bed and knelt down to retrieve the chamber pot, then changed her mind, deciding to go out to the privy instead. She wondered whether she dare flit through the house in her nightdress, but the thought of being seen in such a state of undress by either Mr Purcell or her uncle made her reach for her cotton dressing-gown.
    She padded through the main room on bare feet, wrinkling her nose at the vaguely rancid smell left behind by last night’s lamps, and out through the kitchen. Rebecca was already up and about, stirring something in a big pot over the fire that smelled temptingly like porridge.
    ‘Good morning, Kitty,’ she said, pushing stray wisps of hair under her cap. ‘Did you sleep well?’
    ‘Yes, thank you, I did. I wasn’t sure that I would.’
    ‘It’s the salt air,’ Rebecca said. She raised a wooden spoon to her lips, blew on it, then tasted the contents. ‘I expect you slept well at sea, too.’
    Kitty, now on the verge of wetting herself, nodded and hastily made her way down to the dark and rather whiffy privy at the end of the kitchen garden. She hoisted her nightclothes and sat gingerly on the wooden seat, almost groaning with relief. Instead of newspaper or rags,