‘Now why’s that?’ he says, his voice quiet. ‘I might give a kindness.’ He dips his head close to mine so that I can see flecks of green in his eyes, feel his breath on my skin. The smell of him reminds me of the boiling lamb’s head. ‘But what would come to me in return?’

He wipes his hand across my cheek, rubs his thumb over my mouth and, without giving myself the chance to think of what will result, I look him in the eye and growl, as I’ve heard the wild dogs at night, snap at his thumb. Sink my teeth in, taste blood. He leaps back, yelling, then slams his fist into my face. A blast of pain sends me spinning to the ground, the taste of my own blood mingling with his.

I hear screams and Annie launches herself at him, battering his leg with her fists. He kicks her off, swearing and sucking on his bleeding thumb. She crawls over to me and I sit up, wiping my face clean and holding her tight.

He crouches over me, breathing heavy and fast. ‘You’ll pay for this, you little whore.’

Lifting his cap and smoothing his hair down, he straightens up and walks to church, no quicker than before. I watch him, stroking Annie’s head and trying to steady my breathing.

Anger feeds my lust for his suffering. I feel again the thud of stone against my shoulder, see Annie’s wide, uncomprehending eyes and the jeering faces of children, smell the sickly-meat odour of the farmhand. Fury beats through me, scorching under my skin, filling my mouth, driving me to my feet so that Annie falls to the ground.

‘A curse upon you.’

The words break through my lips, grainy and tainted with the farmhand’s blood. Voice low and jagged. Not my own. Not loud. He turns anyway.

‘I curse you break into sores that weep and burn, that torment you with pain and repulse any that lay eye on you.’

He stands, stricken, then laughs and continues on his way. But his laughter struck false and I feel his fear. I remain standing, as the power burning through me rises to meet the terror that bloats within him.

At last I become aware, as my heartbeat steadies, that Annie cowers at my feet, whimpering and covering her face. I scoop her into my arms, once more her sister. Once more nothing but a ragged, empty-bellied girl, smarting where hand and stone have struck me. We turn back towards the cursed hill.

Spires and Beams