IsobelIsobel had been daydreaming in the barn. The news from Evan’s man, about the vote—the vote! She could hardly believe it. She thought of her friend, Elizabeth Peter, and the street map that she laid out in the room behind the church, back in Auckland—how Elizabeth had organised the temperance women to march up and down and through the streets, cajoling women to add their names to the petition. Elizabeth must be delirious with joy, Isobel thought, and the muscles in her legs flinched, as though her body ached to be back in the north.
And what would Rachel make of it? Sweet, iron-tongued Rachel, who had shown her how to feed herself that time on the beach, and slipped a knife into her hand when they left. Isobel bent down to touch the knife, the one she kept in her boot. She would retu
