Niamh sighed, stood, and threw another log on the fire. She was going to have to be careful about this. When she’d looked at the wood stack by the back door there seemed to be enough to last out this winter – just – but what would happen next year? Obviously she would never run out of wood completely – trees grew after all – but the thought of cutting a tree down by herself terrified her. She had found a chainsaw in the shed, and a can of petrol, but she had no idea how to use one. Chainsaws were dangerous, anyway.

Leaving that thought for the moment, she wandered over to the window. The canal bridge was right there, with the steps leading down to the towing path directly opposite. She’d spent some time clearing those steps, last autumn, when the leaf fall made them slippery. Not that anyone used them these days, except her, but it kept her occupied.

Involuntarily, she shivered. It looked cold out there. The canal was starting to freeze over, glistening in the moonlight. Just a thin coating – nowhere near strong enough to walk on – but a sign that spring was still very far in the future. Pretty, in a way, but it made her glad she had the fire. She drew the curtains tight and sat back down, watching the flames flickering in the hearth. She thought about reading, but that would mean lighting a candle, and she wanted to save those. She’d probably go to bed soon. In fact, she realized, she’d been adapting her sleeping patterns according to the seasons, going to bed quite late last summer and now soon after sunset – when it got dark. Was this how people used to live before electricity?