I lift Annie, carry her around the table and try to put her into Bett’s arms. ‘Take her,’ I say.

Annie wails and clings to me, gnashes her teeth at Bett. All this while Mam whispers, so overwhelmed by the loss of one child she doesn’t note the losing of another.

‘Take her,’ I say, pushing Annie towards her. ‘Keep her safe.’

Annie screams and weeps. ‘No,’ she shouts. ‘Sarah, no.’ Her arms are tight round my neck, legs clamped around my waist, gripping with fingers and toes. I feel the sobs shudder through her body, the tears warm on my neck and can’t hold back my own.

Bett steps away, shakes her head. Tears in her eyes too.

‘I cannot. She needs you.’

As Annie holds on to me I know I can’t part from her, even to save her. I sink on to a stool, press my face against her shoulder.

‘All right,’ I whisper. ‘It’s all right. You stay with me.’

Bett clears her throat, gives a sharp nod. Bats her hand across her eyes. ‘Good, then. I shall bring food. But, Sarah, think of leaving. The magistrate goes from house to house, asking about Parson Walsh’s – asking about Satan and witchcraft. I fear for you.’

She reaches into her petticoat and takes out her purse. Pulls from it a comb, made of bone. One I’ve seen many times before.

I press my hand to my mouth. ‘How did you …?’

Her voice is soft. ‘I saw him sneak out of the house with it that day. Saw it in your room later. I thought you might—’

I take it from her. Can say nothing in response, my throat too full to speak.

When she’s gone, Annie slides from my lap, stands with fists clenched, glaring through a pile of hair. ‘You gived me away,’ she shouts, and runs to flop on to her mat.

I sit at the table, turning the comb in my hand. Remembering. I had been at the beck. After he’d shown us the moon fish. Before May Day. Before he’d ever been to this house. Air laced with the scent of mud.

‘I thought I might find you here,’ he had said. ‘Not that I was looking for you. I like the river, I’m here very often. Well, not very often but—’

I watched the blush spread over his cheeks, smothering the freckles. Couldn’t make sense of him. He puffed out a long, slow breath, rocked back on his heels and looked up at the sky.

‘No sister with you today?’ he asked. He sounded as though someone squeezed the air from him.

‘Are you all right?’

He had laughed. ‘Good question.’

I turned back to the water. Felt him move from foot to foot, lift his cap and run his hand through his hair, clear his throat.

‘Have you been in?’ I asked. ‘Properly – over your head?’