She walked up the bank, following the fence. It was cold in the shadow of the house and her skin rose in goosebumps. She bent down and pushed the gate open and for a moment there was nothing more than the sound of her own breath, and the conviction that it – someone – was there, just out of sight, waiting for her – inside . . . Flossie’s low growl turned into a series of barks which echoed through the yard and, fearful of being discovered by Nell, by her mother, by – something, Evie backed away, scrambling onto the path, scooping up Flossie’s lead and heading for home.

*

She kicked off her shoes by the kitchen door and looped the lead over the coat hook. She glanced down at Flossie, who had settled herself in front of the Aga. She seemed fine now, the poor old thing, and there hadn’t actually been anything there – nothing she could see or touch.

Her mother’s voice drifted downstairs. ‘Evie? Is that you?’

‘Yes.’ Suppressing the familiar jolt of guilt. Her mother had been ironing – the Moses basket was filled with clean bedding and there was a pile of clothes balanced precariously on the end of the table. Evie added the clothes to the basket and picked it up, bracing herself for the inevitable interrogation as she walked slowly upstairs.

‘Evie?’

‘I’m here.’ She nudged the bedroom door open.

Carolyn seemed to be in the process of rearranging the entire room, the bed and the chest of drawers had been pulled out of their usual positions and she was standing on a chair attempting to lift the large antique mirror that was hanging against the wall.

Maybe she hadn’t noticed, if she’d been busy, then there was no reason she should have seen Evie disappear up past Elder House.

Carolyn flinched and half stepped, half fell off the chair, lurching against the bed before regaining her balance.

Evie lifted up the basket. ‘Where do you want these?’

‘Oh, put them down anywhere, I’ll deal with that later.’

Evie looked around the room, the chest of drawers that had previously sat underneath the window had been pushed across the room to the opposite wall, and the wardrobe to the right of the door had been pulled out at an angle as if her mother had been attempting to move it single-handed, and the little bookcase she kept by her bed had been half emptied and dragged into a corner. She dropped the basket onto a clean patch of carpet, out of the way, as best she could.

‘Now, if you can just take the weight of this as I unhook it,’ said Carolyn, climbing up on to the chair again, ‘then that would be perfect.’

*