‘You’re no fun.’ Maude drifted around the shop. ‘What about one of those, then?’ she said, pointing at the large glass baubles Gina had suspended in the window from brightly coloured ribbons. They varied in colour, deep reds, rich blues and silvers, greens and golds, shimmering and opalescent. ‘What are they?’

‘They’re witch balls,’ said Gina. ‘You hang one in your window and they ward off evil spirits.’

‘How?’

‘The witch is supposed to become so fascinated with her reflection in the glass that she forgets to come inside.’

‘Do you believe in them – witches?’ asked Maude, rubbing at her hand absent-mindedly.

‘Well,’ said Gina, ‘I do and I don’t.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Maude,’ said Nell. She cast a look at Gina, half amused, half apologetic.

‘That’s all right,’ said Gina. ‘What I meant was that some-times if people were – I don’t know – wise, or knowledgeable, then that might be viewed as witchcraft.’

‘But you’d want to let people like that in, wouldn’t you? If you needed some help.’

‘Good point; knowledge like that might be useful, especially if you were ill or afraid. You might want someone like that on your side.’

‘So you’d let them in, but you’d keep an eye on them?’ said Maude. ‘Just in case?’

‘Maybe. People used to believe you could trap a witch in a bottle, if you put in a bit of iron, like a pin, inside, and salt, or hair, or – other stuff.’

‘A pin?’

‘Metal. Iron in particular. Very magical,’ said Gina, smiling. ‘Very strong protection right there.’

Maude looked up at the bottles again. ‘Is that what these are?’ she asked. ‘Magical?’

‘Not exactly,’ said Gina. ‘Between you and me, these are mass produced in a factory in Romania. But they are very pretty.’

Maude turned hopefully to Nell who shook her head. ‘I don’t think so.’

Maude began to circle the shop again. ‘Did you find out about our shoe?’ she asked.

‘I did. A bit, anyway. I spoke to Sally Nathan earlier and she says that it sounds like the real deal, a proper concealed shoe, probably, but not necessarily, apotropaic in purpose.’

‘A pot what?’

‘Apotropaic. Magic,’ said Gina. ‘For protection.’

‘Like the witch balls?’

‘Exactly. But given the shoe was in the bedroom’ – she glanced at Nell – ‘it might be to do with . . . well, sometimes hidden shoes are connected to fertility. And I think that’s what you’ve got here.’

‘Ew,’ said Maude. ‘Gross.’

‘Maude . . .’ said Nell, softly. She could feel it still, the warm leather, the grime beneath her fingernails. She shouldn’t have moved it, she shouldn’t have touched it.

‘But what’s fertile about a shoe?’ asked Maude.

‘Oh, I don’t know, pet. Why do people tie them to newlyweds’ cars? Why do we go on about the patter of tiny feet? Some objects become – significant; talismans.’

‘Like, a lucky charm?’

‘Yes. Exactly that.’