My mind is playing tricks; it seems now that every face turns to me with suspicion. With recognition. And my fate, should I be discovered, is clearer than ever.

The closer I am to the hill, the more I feel its shadow.

I’m surprised there’s no scent of henbane from the house, and disappointed, for I’m desperate to hear good news from Seth.

Annie runs from the door before I reach it.

‘I heard you,’ she says. ‘John said Seth was come but I knowed it was you.’

She is warm and soft in my arms. Grown, surely, since last I saw her. I hold tight, breathe in the scent of earth and trees from her taffled hair.

She frees herself from my grip, pulls at my petticoat, searches behind my back. Steps away, hands on hips, frowning. ‘Where’s the food?’

The pack lies neatly tied, hidden behind my bed. In my haste I came straight from church. I pinch my own arm, hard. It’s not been so long since I lived here that I’ve forgotten how much that food is needed.

I drop to my knees, take her hands. ‘I’m sorry, Annie. I forgot. I’ll bring it in the week.’

She pulls away, chews her nail, deciding what she feels about this betrayal. Fingers the embroidery on my coif. ‘All right. I’m going to fetch something for you now.’

She scampers off in the direction of the woods.

Mam is stirring nettle soup, her back to me. ‘John thought you were Seth,’ she says, without turning.

‘I saw him this morning,’ I say. ‘He’ll be here.’

‘Knew as much,’ John says. He sits at the table, whittling a stick. ‘Struck by the melancholy last I saw him.’

‘And where was that? When you were about your wickedness in the village?’

The accusation is out too soon, and not in the persuasive manner I planned. Neither of them move or speak, until Mam turns, wipes her hands on her petticoat and steps to embrace me. Her face is red and swollen, a deep scratch running under her left eye.

‘What happened?’ I ask.

She glances past me to John. Waves a hand in dismissal. ‘Oh, a woman in the village. Swears I’ve cursed her belly to be barren. Dew-Springer was about an errand and not there to warn me.’

John snorts. ‘The reason her belly shan’t bear fruit is more caused by the tastes of her husband than any curse, I’ve heard. Prefers to lie with his own kind.’

‘Oh, Mam. Have you used a salve?’

‘Of course, lass, don’t fret. Nowt we’ve not faced before.’

She steps back and looks me up and down. Not so different from Annie’s inspection earlier.

‘I forgot the food,’ I say. ‘Sorry.’

‘Bring us nowt but your interference, then,’ John says.

‘Because I’m feared for you, there’s talk in the village and I saw you—’