‘I do curse you,’ Sarah said. ‘I curse the babe in your belly to split you open and send you to hell on its way out, curse it to a life that carries all the pain caused by both its father and mother.’

Molly wailed and begged to be spared. Sarah released her grip, and Molly stumbled to her feet, staggered away.

Daniel stood, watched her go. Turned back to Sarah. Both soaked now. Could think of nothing to say. Nothing to do. How could she know of Molly’s plight? He was afraid of this unearthly ability to see what was hidden.

‘John is dead,’ she said, her voice flat now after the fury it had been filled with.

‘Yes. I’m sorry.’

‘Thank you for taking Annie.’

‘She’s—’ He gestured to show the state of the child, still pulling her hair, though the whispering had stopped.

Sarah nodded. ‘I’ll bring her now.’

She did not move.

‘Sarah?’

‘Aye?’

‘When you visited your family yesterday, was he there? Your brother?’

She gave him a look dark with loathing. ‘No. But it was Gabriel killed Seth, not John.’

‘Gabriel? He’s a brute, but even he wouldn’t kill a man of God. And in such a way—’

‘It was Gabriel.’

She walked to Annie, crouched and gently pushed the hair from her face, kissed her cheek and gathered her into her arms.

He watched, torn by grief for the life they had planned, for the person he had thought she was. Even now, he would choose to let her bewitch him and believe in that life. ‘We should have been wed tonight,’ he said.

Sarah lifted Annie on to her hip and stepped past him. Her hair had fallen loose and the petticoat Bett had given her was ripped and stained, clinging wet to her legs as she walked. She looked like Sarah as he had first seen her, but more – a deadened form of herself, the storm she carried slowed and cold.

‘Aye,’ she said, as she walked away.

Take Any Day

Annie does not speak. She does not let me go, clinging with arms around my shoulders and legs around my waist, and I’m grateful for her warmth. With her held against me, the snarling subsides. Her face is buried against my neck, no tears now.

She does not ask of John, and I do not tell her.

The house is in shadow and Mam at last left John’s side, but lies curled in his bed, his blanket held to her face.