“Please go away,” she said.

He kept his silence.

“Please,” she said.

“I just thought a little gratitude wouldn’t be too much to ask,” he said, “after all we’ve done for you.”

“Please leave me alone,” Esther said, “or I’ll tell Mrs. Clarke.”

“Tell her what?”

“That you tried to come in here while I was in the bath.”

“All I did was knock the door to see if you needed anything. That’s not a crime, is it?”

“I don’t need anything.”

“All right, then,” he said. “Dinner on the table in half an hour.”

She heard his footsteps on the stairs, descending, fading.

At the table, dried and dressed, Esther closed her eyes and clasped her hands together as Reverend Clarke said grace, emphasising the importance of gratitude for all the blessings of life. The tangy smell of liver rose from Esther’s plate, merging with the low dun odour of boiled things. When he’d finished, she spoke up.

“I’m going to leave in the morning,” she said. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, but it’s time I moved on.”

“Where will you go?” Mrs. Clarke asked.

“Oh, I’ll sort something out,” Esther said, smiling, feigning certainty.

It was then that she noticed the eldest Clarke child, Jennifer, who was thirteen and small for her age. Her face had drained of colour, her eyes gone distant, and welling, glistening. Something cold touched Esther’s heart, a knowledge that her presence in this house had spared Jennifer something, and her absence would allow it to return.

The idea of taking it back flashed in her mind, sparing this girl whatever haunted her. But Esther could not do that. She had endured too much to take on someone else’s torment. Instead she ate her food and did not look at the girl.

Esther did not sleep that night. For the first time since she’d arrived at this house, Reverend Clarke did not show her to her room at bedtime. Even so, she moved the chair from the corner and wedged its back beneath the door handle. She had seen this in a film once, and she doubted if it would do any good, but it gave her a small amount of comfort, nonetheless.

As the night’s quiet fell all around, she packed her things ready for the morning, then turned out the light and went to bed. She supposed an hour had passed, perhaps two, when she became aware of a presence on the other side of the bedroom door. She did not hear it there, saw no movement of shadow on the sill, but she could feel it. A cold and dark thing whose being drew all light and oxygen and good from the air around it.