The girl, who had been admiring her new hat in the mirror, tweaked the already low neckline of her dress for slightly more exposure, just in case the caller was male, and went and opened the door.

A figure was outlined against the freezing starlight. Flakes were already building up on his cloak.

“Mrs Ogg? The midwife?” he said.

“It's Miss, actually,” she said proudly. “And witch, too, o'course.” She indicated her new black pointy hat. She was still at the stage of wearing it in the house.

“You must come at once. It's very urgent.”

The girl looked suddenly panic-stricken. “Is it Mrs Weaver? I didn't reckon she was due for another couple of we—”

“I have come a long way,” said the figure. “They say you are the best in the world.”

“What? Me? I've only delivered one!” said Miss Ogg, now looking hunted. “Biddy Spective is a lot more experienced than me! And old Minnie Forthwright! Mrs Weaver was going to be my first solo, 'cos she's built like a wardro—”

“I do beg your pardon. I will not trespass further on your time.”

The stranger retreated into the flake-speckled shadows.

“Hello?” said Miss Ogg. “Hello?”

But there was nothing there, except footprints. Which stopped in the middle of the snow-covered path…

Tick

There was a hammering on the door. Mrs Ogg put down the child that had been sitting on her knee and went and raised the latch.

A dark figure stood outlined against the warm summer evening sky, and there was something strange about its shoulders.

“Mrs Ogg? You are married now?”

“Yep. Twice,” said Mrs Ogg cheerfully. “What can I do for y—”

“You must come at once. Its very urgent.”

“I didn't know anyone was—”

“I have come a long way,” said the figure.

Mrs Ogg paused. There was something in the way he had pronounced long. And now she could see that the whiteness on the cloak was snow, melting fast. Faint memory stirred.