‘She’ll bounce back before you know it. And – if you don’t mind – are you OK?’ Carolyn lowered her voice. ‘You must have taken a nasty tumble too.’

‘I’m fine.’ Nell folded her arms and stepped back, trying to smile, trying not think about the footsteps, which seemed now to have been muffled yet purposeful, or that bloody shoe and the way Maude clung onto it, and the flowers and the letters above her bed fading into the shadows: MMM. ‘Honestly.’

‘Yes, well, let me know if you need anything else.’ Carolyn opened the door. ‘Goodnight, again.’

Chapter 19

19

Maude waited until she was sure they had both gone back downstairs, then – moving slowly and carefully – she arranged everything she needed on the bed; the shoe, her pad and pencils, the books she’d been reading, the salt cellar she’d pinched from the kitchen. Iron had been a bit trickier, until Nell had let her out to go and buy Issie her present. Instead of going to Gina’s, she’d whizzed across the bridge to the haberdasher’s – so weird, so old-fashioned – opposite the bus station. She’d bought a packet of pins, steel, not iron, but they would have to do. Nell was busy pretending to Carolyn that there was nothing wrong, but she wasn’t fooling Maude.

She picked up one of the books, the one that had the description of the witch marks. There wasn’t much detail in it, really, just fragments of ideas, bits of superstition, but if you thought about it – if you thought about the shoe – they sort of made sense.

Apotropaic magic, which meant you could protect yourself.

Sympathetic magic, which meant you could make things happen.

It had been a nice evening at Carolyn’s house until they’d got back here and the noises started.

The noises had frightened Nell.

Good.

Maude found the page she wanted and started to read.

Serve her right.

*

Nell lay awake, staring into the dark, listening for – she wasn’t quite sure what. Her back ached, her mouth was dry, and sleep – the very idea of it – was impossible. She kept replaying the night’s events in her head; sometimes Maude was holding a glass of water as they quarrelled, sometimes she was not. She rolled onto her side and began to rehearse the phone call with Chris. Distantly the clock in the churchyard above chimed the half hour.

Downstairs, a door slammed.

*

On the landing all was still. Nell walked down the hall and paused at the top of the stairs, ‘Maude?’ She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she could hear someone moving around in the kitchen. Muffled footsteps, the rush of water in the sink.

She should be resting her foot, not – not . . .