A look of suspicion scudded across her face. ‘Why?’

He flushed, confused. ‘I – it’s just – what people do.’

‘Oh.’ She frowned, drawing back, as though suspecting him of some trickery.

‘So?’ Talking to her was like travelling somewhere new without knowing the route.

She hesitated, watching him. He waited. ‘Sarah,’ she said.

He spoke without thinking. ‘That’s pretty.’

She started, scowling as though he had insulted her. ‘You needn’t look so surprised.’

‘No, no. I’m not, of course, it’s just, it suits you.’ He took a breath. Too late now to be cautious. For once, he wanted to be bold. ‘It’s – well, it’s pretty.’

Daniel bent his head to hide the blush, hurrying back over the mud, pebbles and grass in his bare feet. He pressed the stone into his palm, wondering at the strength of its powers; could it protect him from his own desire to see her again? Would it shelter them from the accusing eyes of the village if he could not resist?

At last preparations were done and the land ready for sowing. The days in the smoking fields setting the roots to smoulder were ones Daniel had not enjoyed. His eyes stung and streamed, his throat burned and the stench clung to his clothes for what felt like weeks after the task was done. By the time May Day arrived, he relished the entertainment it offered.

Father provided the horse and cart for the May Queen. The village women, the ones past eyeing up the May Crown or the boys, had been busy decorating it since daybreak, chatting as they worked. Now it stood, old Boris their steadiest horse waiting stoically at the front, festooned with ribbons, while the cart itself was decked with cow parsley, bluebells and crack willow.

The village green was a-buzz with voices and laughter; children squealed and stampeded unreprimanded through groups of cheerful adults. The communal meal – and abundance of wine and ale that came with it – would not take place till later, but many had indulged in a drink already. More than one, by the look of the red faces and rolling feet.

Gabriel strode over to where Daniel stood with Bett, leaving his mother and little sister to their own devices for a moment. His hair was all but regrown, his scratching almost stopped, and he considered his shaking off the curse as testament to his strength. Bett attributed his recovery to the cunning woman’s salve.

‘This isn’t even the best bit,’ he said, slapping Daniel on the back. ‘Know what the best bit is, Danny?’

They had this conversation every year. ‘The dancing,’ he replied.

Gabriel grinned, cupping his hands in front of his chest and bouncing them up and down. ‘The dancing,’ he said, prancing around. ‘Oh, the dancing.’

Daniel caught Bett’s eye, suppressed a smile as he saw her expression.