‘Oh, indeed,’ Father said. ‘A good little worker.’ He smiled at Sarah, though she did not return it, just slid her wide eyes to him.

‘Very well,’ the magistrate said. ‘Then I shall leave you for now. Remember, light your candles. I see you have no witch jar yet. Do not tarry.’

The door had barely closed when Father gave a loud burst of laughter, looking at each of them in turn.

‘Well, I’ve never seen the like. Poor little lassie, I would not have batted an eye had he opened your mouth and counted the teeth.’

‘Had he laid another finger on you I’d have split his face,’ Gabriel said.

Sarah smiled at Father, ignored Gabriel.

‘Should you like to return to your room?’ Daniel asked.

He stood, placed a hand on the small of her back and led her away. Still shaking.

Garlanded with Leaf and Flower

Not yet light when I’m woken by a fist hammering on my door. For a moment I think I’m at home, with Annie by my side, and fear the crowd has come to attack. A dream of Magistrate Wright, leaning down and whispering that he knows my real name, clings to my mind.

At the edge of my eye, shadow flickers. I try to swallow the taste of ash, cannot rid myself of the sight of the dog’s eyes. Words fall from my lips in a whisper, unknown yet familiar, a call upon dark forces to bring suffering to the one that threatens us. I cannot stop. The power I’ve embraced seethes through me, beyond my will or bidding, bringing with it both exhilaration and terror.

The rap on the door comes again, thrusting me back to the world around me, releasing me from the grip of darkness. Bett pokes her head into my room.

‘Up, lassie, work to be done.’

Then she’s gone. Scrambling into my clothes, remembering the warm, dry touch of the magistrate’s hand, I follow the sounds of her raking the ashes and thudding pots on to the table.

‘Busy, busy, busy,’ Bett sings as she heats water and surveys the carnival of food – two legs of mutton, bread, elderflowers, milk, cream and cheese. This would feed my family for months.

‘The best night of the year, and the busiest day to prepare. Never before have I had another pair of hands to help me out.’ She frowns when she catches me hiding a yawn. ‘And not much use your hands will be if your head’s still a-bed – wake up, lass, get yourself to the garden.’

And so begins a day like I’ve never known. First I pick gooseberries, whitecurrants and apothecary roses. The petals are used for salads and rosewater, but I keep back a few to give to Mam, for those that may need the spirits brightened.