By the flickering light of a tallow candle Hannah folded her clothes and placed them inside the trunk, making sure the lid was firmly sealed. Joshua’s vivid descriptions of the creepies that skulked here made her cautious. She stood stock still for a second, peering into the shadows cast on the far corner. Had something moved?

She smothered a giggle with one hand. There was no reason to jump at her own outline on the wall.

For the second time that day, she searched under the bed, in the chamber pot, behind the furniture and beneath the coverlet. All was clear.

She straightened to pick up the portrait that sat on the crooked chest of drawers. The oval frame was old, the silver tarnished, but behind the glass, the watercolours were bright. The two faces looked young, happy, full of life. If only her parents had not gone into town that day; if only a runaway horse had not overturned their sulky … But what was the use of ‘if only’? They had, and now they were not here.

Hannah blew out the candle, then spat on her forefinger and pinched the wick. Two steps and she was in bed, tugging the mosquito net around her. She lay with her hands tucked under her head. Outside in the darkness, a bird’s eerie cry echoed through the trees. Although it was hot behind the protective netting, Hannah was grateful for it.

For the last hour or more she had longed to retire to the quiet darkness of her room, but now her tired brain refused to stop mulling over the day’s events. This place was strange, her uncle disconcertingly formal. He was so unlike her own father. If it wasn’t for the strong physical resemblance she would not have believed the two men had been brothers. Was that why they had not kept contact with each other—because they were so different? That might be a reason not to seek each other’s company, but why conceal the other family’s existence?

Not once had her parents even hinted they had living relatives. Hannah had never questioned family matters, always assuming there were just the three of them. Even Mr Mitchell, the lawyer, knew only that there was a brother, and the name of the island where he lived. Hannah’s father had a clause in his will stating the bare facts. That was all.

It was certainly mysterious. And it was unlikely Uncle Henry and Aunt Constance would reveal further details. In the hours since her arrival, they had not asked a single question about her parents. Furthermore, Uncle Henry was not the most approachable man, and Aunt Constance …? She seemed to do whatever her husband wished.

Hannah wanted to know what had gone wrong between the two brothers, but dared not ask. And if there were an uncle, aunt and cousins, were there other relatives? A grandmother, more aunts and uncles?

Complicating matters, she had not made a good impression. Her first query at the mission house involved the death of their baby; she had threatened to ventilate the village Chief’s nostrils with a parasol and consequently, if her uncle was to be believed, offended the Almighty by taking matters into her own hands; embarrassed herself at dinner by clumsily tripping over Mr Smart’s chair; and deceitfully hidden the broken remnants of a good dinner plate under a bush.

Still, she was determined to find out what had happened to separate the two families. Perhaps Joshua could help her discover the truth. He was an astute boy and he might know something. Hannah resolved to ask him at the first opportunity.