Spring came early. Ruth had a phase of bringing home flowers obtained during her days of truancy: daffodils and tulips perhaps picked from the park or swiped off graves.

‘Don’t steal things, you’ll get caught,’ Rachaela admonished her.

The flower phase died a natural death.

As the days lengthened, Ruth came home later and later. Often she was not home when Rachaela arrived from the shop.

Sometimes, too, Ruth had eaten in a snack bar, having saved up her pocket money for a beefburger.

The school sent Rachaela a letter saying that Ruth’s frequent absences were causing her work to suffer. Rachaela dropped it in the bin.

‘A man spoke to me in the graveyard,’ Ruth announced, as they ate at the table.

‘What did you do?’

‘Nothing. He said I was Ruth Scaraby and I said No, I was Ruth Day.’

‘You shouldn’t have answered him.’

‘But he was wrong.’

‘All right. Then what happened?’

‘He said he knew my father’s family and had I ever seen them. I didn’t say anything and he said he didn’t think I had.’

‘What then?’

‘He said he’d buy me a Pepsi and I said you said I mustn’t talk to strangers, and I came away.’

‘Did he come after you?’

‘No. He just stood there.’

Rachaela said, ‘Did he have a dark coat and a woollen hat?’

‘Yes. I expect he was hot.’

Rachaela tried to order herself. She had begun to tremble with a sort of frightened and frustrated fury. How had he found them? How had he followed Ruth? How dare he speak.

Weeks since, she had tested the evening pavements for pursuit, looked from windows for watchers in the shadow. And all the while he had been creeping up on them, unseen. Of course, it was not Rachaela who interested them now. Their craving for continuance—the child—

‘You must never—never—have anything to do with that man, Ruth.’

‘Why?’

Tie’s bad.’

‘He just looked like a man.’

‘He works for the Scarabae.’

‘Is that for my dad?’

‘No. For the family. I told you, they’re mad and dangerous.’

It was like hurling stones into water. After a moment the impact vanished, leaving no trace. Rachaela had the feeling that, rather than warning Ruth away from the Scarabae, she was intriguing her further with them. What on earth was to be done?

‘I think you’d better stop roaming about. Either you must go to school or stay indoors here.’ Lock her in, keep her close.

‘Mummy I don’t want to.’

‘You’ll have to. I don’t want him getting at you.’