Now, they are in the living room and Viola wonders if she should sit, if that will get the matter sorted faster so she can be on her way. She looks down at the sofa with its crocheted cushions, its appliqued cushions, its sequined cushions, and camouflaged within them all, until that moment, cats – three of them, sleeping. This is why Dot had to be left in the yard.

‘You keep cats!’ With all that she has seen in the room, this is what astonishes Viola the most.

‘No,’ corrects the old woman, ‘the cats keep me.’ She shoves up the sleeves of her threadbare dressing gown to signal an end to their small talk. On the woman’s bony wrist there is a fresh India-ink tattoo, crusted and red – a symbol, two triangles joined at their points.

‘Dagaz,’ she says, following Viola’s gaze, fingering the scab, ‘the symbol for community.’ Then she makes a righteous fist, shakes it. ‘This,’ she says, ‘has been a long time coming.’

‘What has?’ asks Viola.

‘Everything has its time to die,’ the old woman continues, ‘and that time is now.’

It dawns on Viola slowly.

‘You mean… you know?’ she says. ‘You know what’s going on?’

The woman nods and Viola looks nervously down at the table again, at that angel with its trumpet – Judgement.

‘Did you see it in the cards?’ she asks, a little scared of the answer.

‘Yes, I saw it.’ The woman shrugs. Then she grins, not so proud. ‘Also the walls are thin between these two cottages. I could hear you and Leah next door. So, tell me, where are the girls? We need to work together now.’

Viola allows herself to feel a prick of joy. This is help, this is a friend, and by the evidence in the room, not someone who would want to condemn the girls out of hand.

‘They’re going to school as if nothing has happened.’ Viola speaks rapidly. ‘And I’m going to the Big House because I think, I think …’

‘You will find judgement there,’ the woman finishes. ‘That’s your instinct.’

‘Yes!’

It is like electricity coursing through a wire. It is time for this to happen, the old woman is right.

‘But wait,’ says Viola. The current is cut abruptly, the circuit broken. ‘What did you mean – that this has been a long time coming?’

The woman steadies herself, one hand against the green baize, and looks away.

‘Do you mean people have always known what is going on? Like, really known?’ Still the woman does not look at Viola. ‘People knew and they didn’t do anything?’

‘There have been attempts. The girls will have told you.’

‘Yes, but …’

‘I can’t speak for the others.’ The woman gives a heavy sigh. ‘The girls’ mothers certainly have no real idea of the true extent, or else blood would have been spilled long before last night.’