Don’t be afraid to go on thinking it. Mother had forced Lucy to memorize the ingredients of the stews, fairly beating them into her, spanking her backside when she rebelled. And so —’ ‘And so she was able to become my—’ Melusine did not say it, for wet-nurse no longer seemed appropriate. But here she met with a check. ‘What are you going to do now, child?’ Melusine sighed away the last of her distress. What was he doing? What was he thinking? It was less than a day now, less than twenty hours. Master, your humble servant. Oh, and weeks and months of thought and feeling there are bottled up too. You are you.
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