“Amelia?” she called out as she lifted the wooden sheet that blocked the door to their little hideaway. It hung on a single wooden peg, meaning you had to push it up to the side to get it to lift up. She ducked under the entrance and stalked inside. It was small and cramped – such was life living under the foundations of a mill. It was loud and far too warm in the summer, but it was dry and kept the chill out in the winter, and frankly, that was enough.