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compounded Tod’s misery by staying on at the house. Because it is my duty to be here, Alice, that is why , she would say whenever Tod asked her why she didn’t go away and leave her alone . And Tod knew that Aunt Mitza would indeed be there, sitting in her chair as ever, gazing out to the Far.
    Tod shook away the sad thoughts about her father and picked up the basket of fish. She heaved it up the ladder and stopped in the doorway to get her breath back. Her father wasn’t home, of course. He wouldn’t have listened to her bringing up the fish without lifting a finger to help. She looked at the space beside the door where Dan’s big seaboots had once stood – it was as empty as it had been when she left at dawn that morning. A wave of sadness overwhelmed Tod and she dropped the fish basket with a despairing thud .
    From a winged chair in the shadows Aunt Mitza sprang to her feet. She stormed over to Tod, her black eyes staring out from her flat, red face, which was pulled taut by the dark hair scraped savagely up into a bun on the top of her head. She bristled with fury. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded. “Banging the fish down like that – are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
    “No,” said Tod, thinking that wasn’t such a bad idea. “I’m just bringing in the fish. Like I always do.”
    Aunt Mitza stared angrily at Tod. Tod returned the stare, determined not to blink first. Aunt Mitza looked away. “You’ll be sorry,” she said, turning on her heel and going back to the tall chair in the shadows.
    Tod shrugged. She picked up the basket and went over to the cooking area. She selected three good-sized mackerel for the night’s supper and laid them on the fish stone, then she took the rest out to the fish store – a box filled with ice (which every morning Tod heaved up from the icehouse and crushed) attached to the outside wall. Just as Tod had watched Dan doing, she gently laid the catch on the layers of ice, then sprinkled them with more ice. The fish would keep for about five days, although they always tasted best on the first day.
    To the background click-click-click of Aunt Mitza’s irritable knitting needles, Tod lit the fire in the stove, gutted the mackerel, and put them in the large black pan to gently fry. Then she went over to the table beside the window that looked out towards the marsh flats of the old lagoon at the back, which had once been one of her favourite places to sit and read. Tod threw her best red-checked cloth over the rough wood, laid three places for supper and waited for trouble. It wasn’t long coming.
    “Three?” asked Aunt Mitza, eagle-eyed as ever.
    “I’ve asked Oskar Sarn for supper.”
    “Well, you can just un -ask him.” Aunt Mitza threw down her knitting and set off towards the door. Tod knew what she was going to do – pull up the ladder so Oskar could not get in. She raced after her, but there was no need. At that very moment Oskar’s cheery face peered in at the door.
    It was not the most fun supper Oskar had ever had, but he would do anything for Tod, even if it meant spending a whole evening in the company of the dreaded Aunt Mitza. However, the evening was not as long as Oskar had expected. As soon as they had finished the fish – and before Oskar had time to point out that they hadn’t even unwrapped the cake his mother had given him to bring for pudding – Aunt Mitza scraped back her chair and stood up. “It’s late,” she said. “Oskar Sarn, it’s time you went home.”
    Tod frowned. “It’s not at all late,” she objected. “Oskar’s only just got here.”
    Aunt Mitza folded her arms and stared at Tod. “Alice TodHunter Moon. If I say it is late, it is late .” She scowled at Oskar. “And if you know what’s good for you, Oskar Sarn, you will go home right now .”
    Oskar felt terrible. He hated the thought of leaving Tod alone with someone who so obviously loathed her. And yet he knew if he stayed he would