A hand pressed against her back. ‘Go on. Keep walking.’ Joshua spoke gently but firmly.

She forced herself to turn away from the man and scuttled past with her head down.

Joshua tried to speak to her again but she refused to look at him. She slipped a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at the perspiration on her face, wishing she didn’t feel so wretchedly hot, or so humiliated for giving in to her fear in front of her cousin.

Another clearing revealed a single house, like those in the village, but with glass windows and a regular-sized door. Uncle Henry stood to attention. ‘The mission house. See how the Lord provides. We are blessed to have a roof over our heads.’

Hannah was still annoyed with herself and remained silent. Blessed they may be, but she had a feeling that it was in the Lord’s best interests to provide shelter. Without it, their lives would be shortened, and the mission work curtailed.

Aunt Constance stood Deborah on the ground and stretched. The child was obviously quite heavy. Hannah wondered why her aunt didn’t insist that Deborah walk.

There were a few plants along the front of the house, and a vegetable patch at the side. Uncle Henry opened the front door and beckoned. Hannah felt reluctant to enter. It was one thing to talk about a new home, to think about it, wonder what it would look like. But that was all abstract; the moment she crossed the threshold, her new life would begin.

Hannah took a deep breath and walked towards the open door. ‘Oh, what is this?’ She paused by a tiny house made of wood and cloth, touching it with her hand. It couldn’t be a birdhouse: they were always in trees. Perhaps it was a dolls’ house. She became aware of a long silence and looked up.

Her expression sad, Aunt Constance bent to pick up Deborah yet again, although the child hadn’t asked to be cuddled.

Uncle Henry’s face had settled into stern lines. ‘The earthly remains of our baby daughter, Rachel, lie here.’

Flinching, Hannah snatched back her hand. She could have bitten off her tongue. Of all the questions to ask at a time like this!

‘Ratu Rabete, the Chief, built this out of respect. Even a confirmed heathen has moments of humanity. His workmen used calico to muffle the hammer blows.’ Uncle Henry stared at the memorial and added. ‘I have no doubt that given the passage of time, I can persuade the Chief to bend his knee to the only true God.’