Outside, Daniel glances around to make sure no one sees, pulls me into his arms and swings me until my shoes lift free of the grass.

I hold on to my coif, laughing. ‘What?’

‘We shall be together. It will happen – the house, the farm.’ He runs his finger down the centre of my face gently: forehead, nose, lips. ‘Husband and wife.’

No word of Molly passes my lips, nor ever shall. For the balance of all things lies in this, that her secrets remain sewn into my mouth unspoken and so then mine shall lie buried in her breast also. Never shall we call ourselves friends, but we are bound by the frailty we have each shown the other today.

Innocence

The hay rattle was bleached dry and thin, ready to cut, and so the endless toil of August began. Rising at dawn and working till dusk, straw hat little protection from the callous sun that left Daniel’s arms and the back of his neck raw as he bent and swung the scythe all day. The constant itch of sweat, dust and insect bites. He thought often of the new life that was to begin, trying to imagine what it would be to live and work elsewhere, to leave all he had known. Sometimes in trepidation, sometimes excitement. Soon, he would rest each night in the arms of his wife. They counted the days in secret smiles and stolen glances, waiting for word from Parson Walsh.

He returned at last, hot, exhausted and dirty from the field. On the doorstep stood a jar.

He recognised it, but asked all the same. Opened his mouth. Waited for his voice to come. ‘What’s this?’

Father cleared his throat, met Daniel’s eye. Stamped the dust from his boots before entering. ‘You know what it is.’

‘Why do we need a witch jar? There’s no – we are none of us cursed.’

‘To ward off those that are coming.’

Daniel stooped to remove his boots. ‘We needed no such protection before.’

‘There was no such wickedness in the air before. Happen the magistrate warns us rightly, we should fear these spirits, son. We know the truth that Phyllis gave in to the mischief that tempted her, and so she’s lost. Now Sam Finch fails – cursed by the Devil-boy up the hill, some say. You know that young Robinson lad was out in the woods when he should have been helping with the catch last week and his father fit to beat him until the boy told of a demon in the shape of a hare that tempted him away and swore to lay a curse upon the family if he disobeyed?’

Daniel looked out at the endless spill of trees and fields, the blinking of the first stars. Put his hand to his pocket, where he carried the stone Sarah had given him, and wondered how strong was the protection it brought. ‘I hadn’t heard,’ he said.