I look at Mam. Older and younger than I’ve ever seen her, her eyes hollow, face sagging and hanging in heavy lines, she opens her mouth obediently as Annie waves the dripping spoon in front of her.

‘You’re such a good lass,’ I say, sitting next to Annie and putting my arm around her shoulder.

She wriggles from my grasp, spilling the milk down Mam’s chin. ‘Then why did you give me away?’

‘I’d never choose to be away from you.’

‘You gived me to that lady.’

‘I’m sorry. I thought you might be better with her. Happier.’

‘But you’re my sister.’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’

I pull her on to my lap. She resists at first, then turns in towards me.

I am feared, breathing in the scent of Annie that no longer carries traces of fresh air or trees or mud, but just decay. We wait, and I lose track of time, of days, and for what? For them to return with weapons instead of candles? For the magistrate to take us to the assizes and we languish until the noose?

If only Annie can be saved, that will be enough. She is so small. They’ll know she is innocent, surely.

I carry her over to the door, open it, though night has fallen and there is only moonlight to see by.

‘What are you doing?’ she asks.

‘We’ve to search.’

She tries to break free from my grip, struggles so that I am forced to tighten my hold. ‘Nay,’ she says. ‘I don’t want to, leave me be, let go.’

‘Annie, stop. Don’t be silly, we’ve always done it. Let me look.’

‘Nay,’ she shouts, sobbing. ‘I don’t want you to see.’

I let go. She stands, covering her face with her hands, tears dripping through her fingers.

My worst fear come about. I can barely speak. Gently, I pull her hands from her face, crouch so I am level with her. ‘Show me.’

She rolls up her sleeve, crying, shows me the underside of her arm, just above the wrist. And I see the mark. Flat and dark, hardly bigger than a breadcrumb.

Enough to condemn her should the magistrate come looking.

‘He’s been, hasn’t he?’ she asks, turning her tear-sodden face to me.

I smile. Steady my voice. ‘Oh, this? Nay, that’s not him. That’s nowt. I’ve seen the like on calves and pups and piglets, at the farm.’

She dries her face, gulps. ‘Really?’

‘Oh, aye.’ I take her in my arms. She wipes her nose on my shift. ‘Silly me, I thought he’d been.’ Laughs through tears, her eyes both hopeful and fearful.

I will not see her hunted down. Will not see her taken by the magistrate. Darkness has closed in on us so completely that there is only one choice left to me.