‘Okay,’ I said, ‘okay.’ I backed towards the door, smiling because I wanted everything to seem fine, normal. I was lifting the carpet, sweeping it all underneath. ‘I’ll see you next week,’ I told her, leaving as calmly as I could.

That was the first Tuesday of Advent.

The goat was found on Saturday.

December 2017

DECEMBER 2017

They were sitting cross-legged in the middle of the stone circle, despondent.

Anna, Britta and Jade-Marie wore their white nightdresses over their school uniforms, coats on top. Viola was zipped up in a long, maroon padded jacket that belonged to her mother – Deborah Kendrick preferring the moth-eaten sheepskin for her vigils on the veranda. All of Viola’s mainland coats were too thin for the dropping temperatures, no matter how many jumpers she layered underneath.

The girls had offered to get Viola a nightdress too, which had thrilled her initially as a sign of acceptance, but she had politely declined. Viola’s confession, the afternoon of their first meeting – the whole truth of it spilling out of her, the reason why she and her mother had left their old life to be here on Lark – had allowed the girls to confess in return. They were the keeper of each other’s worst experiences now – but this had reduced some of the trappings of their magic. Once Viola understood why the Eldest Girls gathered at the stones, what they were trying to achieve, she couldn’t see how a nightdress would help.

Nothing was working. Terrible things continued to happen. The sky was darkening, the ground was cold and hard. They rested their chins on their hands, their elbows on their knees.

Viola could feel it festering within them all – the notion of futility.

She had to do something, say something, lift them from this abyss.

‘There is a reason,’ she said, ‘why none of this is working.’

Viola poked a finger at the pebbles that they had carved into runes. Beside them was a bowl of water in which they hoped to catch the reflection of the waxing fingernail moon.

Britta sat up, always primed to challenge. ‘Oh, yeah. And what reason’s that?’

Viola met her gaze squarely. ‘It’s because none of us believe it will work.’

They were all quiet in response; no quick rebuttals. She was right, their faith had wavered.

A tealight candle flickered out in the twitching of the winds.

‘So,’ shrugged Britta, ‘what are we supposed to do?’

‘Stop dabbling at the edges,’ came Viola’s definite response.

‘Meaning?’

‘I say we do something big.’ Viola could feel it, the sensation growing inside her – rebellion, recklessness, an appetite for fire. ‘I say we do something that will actually make a fucking difference.’

She had never heard the girls swear and hoped that her use of the word would demonstrate her seriousness, shock them into action.

‘But, what is there left?’ Jade-Marie asked. ‘What haven’t we tried?’