‘But fairer on Evie, I think,’ said Kym. She smiled at her grandmother. ‘I got enough, in the end, and what good would it do everyone else to drag it up all over again? With no proof?’

‘I wasn’t an easy woman, Ida,’ said Gina, ‘for all her advice and remedies. There was something about her that seemed to enjoy other people’s misfortunes a bit too much. It was as if once she’d helped someone out, then she was – entitled, I suppose, part of the family. I can imagine her clinging on to someone young and insecure, trying to mould them.’ She swirled her tea around in her mug, frowning. ‘Giving them ideas. She had her fallings out with people, too, you know – as she got older she seemed to push folk away.’

‘Except for Carolyn?’

‘I suppose so.’ Gina put her mug on the grass. ‘She’s been gone a long time, but she casts a shadow still, doesn’t she?’

‘And you?’ Nell asked Kym in she silence that followed. ‘Are you OK?’

Kym’s expression was calm, her make-up impeccable. ‘I like to think of myself as a work in progress,’ she said. The beginnings of a smile flitted across her face. ‘What about Maude? How’s she doing?’

‘Fine. She doesn’t seem to remember anything, which is a blessing, I think.’ They hadn’t spoken much, and on the few occasions they had been alone together Nell had barely known where to start. She didn’t know what Maude had felt and seen in the house, she wasn’t sure she ever would. She stood. ‘I’ll go give Evie a hand.’

*

She was standing by the kitchen sink, staring blankly out at the garden as the kettle boiled furiously. Then a switch flicked and it fell silent.

‘Are you OK?’ Nell asked.

‘Sorry. I was – thinking.’ Evie turned to her. ‘I’m glad Maude is getting better and you’re . . .’ She smiled anxiously. ‘You’ll go soon, though? You won’t stay in the house any longer than you need to, will you?’

‘As soon as we can, yes.’

‘Good.’ Evie brightened. ‘That’s good.’

‘Is there something bothering you? Something I should know?’

‘Nothing. Only I tried – the other night . . .’

‘Gina told me where she found you.’

Evie nodded. ‘I was trying to fix it. Stupid, really.’ She fiddled with a bracelet on her wrist. Today it was a tiny silver anchor on a bright blue ribbon. ‘She’s always had this collection of books, you know, my mum – old paperbacks – about . . . I’ve been reading them. There’s a story about a man called John Shorne – and I know all the stuff we were saying about boundaries and protection and superstition only . . .’ She hesitated. ‘This was a long time ago, the thirteenth century, when people believed in demons.’

‘Evie. It’s all over and done with now.’